The Final Case
by CrypticDevil
Summary: Sherlock Holmes made a miscalculation that put Mary and John's lives in danger. Now he is in an unlikely situation - choosing between Mary and the Baby. Will his decision be correct? Or will it be another miscalculation that could lead his and John's friendship to it's end? Will Sherlock Holmes be able to solve his Final Case - telling John his true feelings?
1. Prologue

Prologue

"John!" Screamed the seemingly petrified Sherlock Holmes as he dashed towards his doctor that lays gory on the floor.

"Sir, you have to choose now."

"Sh-sherlock…" John's aggrieved voice echoed through Sherlock's ears and it's killing him by the second.

"Sir, we don't have enough time…!"

"J-john! Stay with me. Don't. Don't close your eyes!" He stuttered in dread.

"Sir!"

"I'm a doctor Sherlock, don't be silly you bastard. I can-" John's own voice betrayed his body as the pain amassed.

"Please, sir. We've only got minutes left."

"W-what should I-?" Sherlock was cut off as John held a tight grip on his collar. "M-mary… B-baby…"

"Mary, baby, Mary, baby, Mary, baby, Mary, baby, Mary…"

"Save the baby, Sherlock…" Mary's voice whispered in certitude that is filled with beseeches. "M-mary… B-baby…" John's voice contradicted in the process.

"Gaaaahh!"

"The baby, Sherlock." Mary. "B-baby…" John.

"Sir?!"

"Save… The baby."

Forgive me, John.

A/N: Hi! So, uh, I'm not really that good with summarizing stuffs so if this didn't really get your attention that much, I would really appreciate it if you try reading further. :)

I'm not assuring you anything but yeah, there's no harm in trying, isn't there? ;)

Thank you! :D


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

1 week Before

"John, what have you been doing?" I was taken aback when Sherlock himself asked me this question. I mean, he should know what I have been doing because as he had said it himself, he knows what a person did just by looking at him.

"Do I need to answer that?" I asked as I took off my coat and hung it to the coat rack.

"Well of course. Sometimes, I get tired of reading people. What they did and some of the sort. But if you want me to, I can—"

"No! No… I, uh… Well, I've been in the hospital for the whole day. Got at least 7 patients where two got straight into my nerves. I was thankful though that Mary was there and helped me out. She went home first because she was tired which was reasonable because she's pregnant and will be expecting her labour this week. I wanted to take her home myself as a good husband will do but she declined the offer and told me that I still have patients. Regrettably, I agreed. I bought coffee after my shift. When I got out from the shop, I was very unlucky for it rained; at least I have my coat on. I raced a cab and gave it to an old lady who happens to be my patient. Fortunately for me, her destination was on the way here so I got in too. And now here I am! Standing up front the great Sherlock Holmes." I sarcastically indicated and sat down on my couch.

"Mm," he walked up towards his violin and started to play of what I remembered Bach's piece.

I stood up and turned the telly on but was surprised when Sherlock was now standing in front of me just after I sat back down my couch.

"Except that the old lady is not an old lady. It was Sarah. She managed to talk to you after about… a year and a half. She loved you that much, I deduced. It only rained for a while John and _you walked her home_ not _got in to the cab because her destination was on the way_. Seriously John, how do you not realize that you. Can't. Lie. To. Me." He paused at each word while his face went near my face each pause.

"W-well—" I was intimidated! Of course, it's Sherlock bloody Holmes, with his face nearly inches mine! I could feel the heat went up my cheeks and all I could bloody do was stare at his green-grey eyes.

"And I knew all that through your scent," He stated through his jaded tone and backed out. He continued playing like he does all the time.

"My scent?!"

He continued playing, ignoring me in the process.

"Sherlock, my scent?!" I stood up and faced him. I could see him roll his eyes and stopped playing.

"Yes John, you're scent. I know what perfume you use and-"

I cut him off," Cologne Sherlock. There's a difference."

"Fine. I know what _cologne_ you use. What shampoo, soap and deodorant. Now, when I smelled something different. Something that covered up Mary's Clair de la Lune, I deduced that someone, or yet some woman hugged you. Some _woman_ because you won't really expect a man wear a Jo Malone Women's Fragrance perfume. I got into my mind palace while you were forming little white lies and remembered that it was Sarah's. It's good that I haven't thought of deleting it though. Mm, should I?" He certainly looked like he was asking that question to himself.

I heaved out a fairly deep sigh went to sit back on my couch.

"Don't tell Mary." I told him and looked for a good show in the telly.

"Hmm…"

"Sherlock!" I snapped my gaze towards him, who was now lying down on the sofa with his hands together, and he looked like he cared less.

"I'll think about it." After his _trustworthy_ assertion he turned his back on me and closed his eyes.

I tried focusing on the telly but I couldn't stop myself from thinking why I was here. Normally I would come here in his flat and help him with some cases but seeing that today was likely another of his dull days, there was nothing to do. Perfect for my plan.

"Um, Sherlock?" I called out to him and immediately he sat up from the sofa and looked up at me, anticipating something.

"Finally you're going to tell me why you are so nervous!" He grinned quite appallingly.

"How—Oh never mind! What I wanted to tell you is that, Mary and I decided that—"

"You are going to move at the flat upstairs." He finished my sentence, quite expecting that he was right. But-

"Nope. We are not going to move at the flat upstairs." He groaned and returned to his position before.

"What I was saying is that… Mary and I decided that…" I tried catching his attention but it was all futile work.

Well, here goes.

"We want you to name the baby."

Only the rustles of the telly could be heard for some deafening silence from Sherlock, who seemed to stop breathing.

.

.

.

"Sherlock?"

.

.

"Sherlock?!"

I could hear him inhale sharply and exhale quietly. "Yep?" He replied with a pop on the end as always.

"Are you alright?"

"Why-. What-. Y-yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" He stuttered and tried acting like he wasn't breathless just now.

"So, will you name our baby?"

He cleared his throat and nodded, "Well, it shouldn't be that hard now, is it?" He asked me.

I smiled and patted his back. "Thank you, Sherlock. Well I've got to go now, Mary's expecting me." He smiled lightly while I took my coat and went out from 221B.

Sherlock's POV

"Well, it shouldn't be that hard now, is it?" I know I asked John that seemingly rhetorical question because I myself do not know the answer.

After John had left the flat, I immediately went straight to my laptop and started searching for baby names. In a matter of seconds, thousand of baby names flooded my mind.

Alice. Amanda. Cameron. Addison. Amelia.

Oh to the bloody hell with this! I shuffled my hair and went to my thinking position. Went in my mind palace, got distracted by Mrs. Hudson giving groceries, went back and still I couldn't find a damn good name!

I have seen Mary having her 'pregnancy problems' and I pitied John after. She loves to eat ice-cream but dislike them later after a couple of scoops. She is so delighted every time I came to their house and she keeps looking at my hair and sometimes she even wants to touch it, which is awfully irritating. She reads John's blog and laugh at his choice of words. Really, she loves seeing John red-faced out of embarrassment. She 'adores' me when I smile which I don't do very often but has to because John asked me to. She loves eating but her taste changes almost immediately. Dear God, how do they even manage these things? I really do pity John.

All that I have observed from Mary really did not help at all. But I have to find the best name for the baby so that John would be proud with me.

I can't believe I am saying this now but I have to find a perfect name for the baby and I needed a second opinion.

 _I have to find the best for John._


	3. Chapter 2

Sherlock's POV

It was half past 12 midnight and I was still on the couch searching my mind palace for the best name I could give the baby. I wanted to smoke badly, but I know John will know and he would be disappointed with me and I never wanted to feel that unlikely feeling ever again. I've disappointed him for the very first time when we were solving the bombing case of Moriarty. It was an unfamiliar feeling that I don't ever want to feel again.

And besides that, I have successfully avoided smoking for a month now and I gave my word to not break that record.

"Mrs. Hudson! Did you buy me any Nicotine patch? Nothing's left in my drawer!" I shouted. But of course, its 12:30 in the morning and my landlady is surely sleeping.

"John-" I stopped myself from further wasting my voice because John left the flat 2 years, 10 months, 3 weeks, 4 days and approximately 1 hour and 37 minutes ago. I heaved out a sigh, feeling something lacking in my unjustly quite flat. I looked over the chair across mine near the fireplace. John. My doctor. My blogger left this flat because of the thought of me dead devastated him.

I never wanted to lie at him; I never wanted to fake my death in front of him. But it was 'very necessary' – as Mycroft had solely stated it – so that John would be safe. John really was safe, but it made him grow that funny mustache. I can't help but chuckle after that scatty thought and went back to looking for some Nicotine patches.

I went to the groceries that Mrs. Hudson had left last night. I started scrambling through the items and groaned out loud when I couldn't find any. I sat down on a nearby chair and stared blankly to a random wall. I was focusing on a particular crack on the wall when a certain envelope took my attention. It was the envelope that Mrs. Hudson had put here when I drove her away because I was in my mind palace last night.

 _"Someone left this on the front door, dear. It was addressed to yours."_ Was what she said. I looked at its seal and immediately my eyes grew as it was the same seal that was used by the envelopes that was given to me by Moriarty 2 years ago.

As always I checked the whole package, without opening it yet. It was completely ordinary and the seal could be done in any part of London. It was frustrating that it was _ordinary_ but at the same time it was exciting. I opened the envelope and found a fairly small box.

"Hmm, ordinary," I rolled my eyes and thought that it was another 'gift' from Anderson. But the second I opened the box, I threw it away, took my coat and scarf and went straight downstairs towards Mrs. Hudson.

"Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson!" I went straight to her bedroom and found that she was just waking up.

"Sherlock?" She sleepily asked. But we've got no spare time left to talk. So I hurriedly grabbed her hand, grabbing her out of 221B.

"Sherlock, dear?!" I could tell that she was formulating a lot of questions but now is not the right time. When we were fairly away from our flat, a large bang was heard and a terrified shriek from Mrs. Hudson followed.

I glared at our flat and grimaced at my idiocy! How can _I_ not notice it?! It was a bomb! The _fairly small and ordinary box_ was a bomb and I completely had no idea!

After 6 minutes of comforting and trying not to explain to Mrs. Hudson, Scotland Yard led by Graham – wait, was it George? – and an ambulance arrived. They immediately took care of Mrs. Hudson as I went to our once ideal flat. I stared in amazement when I saw what the bomb did. It was a close to perfect bomb! It only affected our flat but completely left the neighbours. It was like it was programmed to have a very close range.

"Sherlock!" I did not bother turning because I was too focused on this case that I am pretty sure will be solving because it was _my_ flat that was bombed after all.

When I finally faced him, I was grinning ear to ear.

"Sherlock, what happened?" He asked. But I never really answer him when I'm in too much excitement. As always, he gave me that confused look.

I brushed it off by walking past him, "Take care of Mrs. Hudson for me, George! I've got a case!"

"What? I did not even tell you that it was your case! And it's Greg for Christ's sake, Sherlock!" He complained as he desperately followed my long strides.

I stopped in front of him, surprising him in the process.

"Come on now, Gary. It was _my_ flat that was bombed and what do you expect me to do? Sit on a chair and let a very fascinating case just pass by? 'Course not! Now be a good inspector and save me the trouble of explaining to Mrs. Hudson," I stated and left him hanging. Well… not really.

"For goodness sake Sherlock, it's Greg! And where are you going if I may ask?!" He yelled.

"To Dr. John Watson. _For I'd be lost without my blogger._ " I whispered and smiled to myself at that last sentence.

"But- Oh, never mind." He commented and stomped away to Mrs. Hudson.

I was about to call John when my phone rang. I raised a brow when I saw that it was John who was calling.

"Yes, John?"

"Sherlock! Are you okay? We heard a loud explosion and then 221B is all over the news! Is Mrs. Hudson alright? Are _you_ alright?" He frantically asked each question without stopping for breath.

"I am okay, John. Mrs. Hudson is a bit shocked but she'll be fine. She's got a blanket on, anyway," I started looking for a cab which is quite hard because it's still quite early in the morning.

"Oh, thank God! Mary is practically strangling me here because she is worried about Mrs. Hudson and _you,_ " He gave an emphasis to 'you' because I know how Mary 'loved' me – if I know, it was all about my 'lovely' hair.

I could hear Mary grumbling beside John and I can't help but give a small smile.

"Tell her my hair was burned and I am now wearing a shaggy wig that makes my eyes stand-out," I told him seriously as I finally got into a cab.

I heard John laugh and I laughed with him after.

"It's good that you've called, John. I'm coming over," I looked around the seemingly empty streets and grimaced of its peace.

"Really, Sherlock? You're coming over?!" Startled by her voice, I almost threw my phone towards the cabbie.

"Mary? Where's John?"

"Someone's at the door and I told him to go get whoever that was."

" _Someone's_ at _your_ door in 1 o'clock in the morning?" I asked, a bit suspicious.

"Yes and…" She stopped and later after I heard her gasp.

"Sh-sherlock?" John was stuttering and I think I know what's coming.

"Someone left an envelope at the door…"

I held out my breath with the thought that two of my dear friends are in danger.

"And the seal looks the same as Moriarty's…"

 **A/N: Hello everyone. This is my first ever Sherlock Fan Fiction. Actually these were originally my Ideas for Season for. Because I am honestly a very impatient person. I can't wait for Season 4 next year, not even the Christmas special this year! What I am trying to say here is that I would really love it if you leave some reviews and follows because I absolutely want to improve in my way of writing. And don't worry, the plot is as clear as the blue eyes of John Watson. :)**

 **Thank you and that is all for now, lovelies.** ** _Cheerio!_**

 **-CD**


	4. Chapter 3

Sherlock's POV

"How much time do I have left to get there, John?" I asked calmly. Panicking is not really helpful in all types of situations.

"W-what? Time?!" He sounded confused. But of course, he is John the 'innocent' Watson. I grumbled.

"There must be a note there somewhere, John. It's attached to the envelope!" I told him in frustration.

"I found it!" Mary exclaimed.

"Dr. Watson, the moment you read this note, the countdown had already started. This note is to inform you that your house is surrounded by snipers and this envelope contains a b-bomb," John read and I could hear him gasp.

"Continue, John. We don't have much time," I encouraged him.

It was Mary who finished, "You have f-five minutes to diffuse this. Anyone who enters and exits your house will be shot by the snipers. Only Sherlock Holmes is allowed."

"Sherlock! Last time I checked there are no bloody snipers outside my house and there is no bloody envelope with a bomb delivered to my house. What the bloody hell is going on?!" I could tell that he was angry and is in panic.

I've counted the seconds that have passed and I have used 36 seconds of my five minutes.

"I'll be right there, John. Don't worry," I ended the call and went straight to my mind palace. I only have 4 minutes and 23 seconds left. I have to get there in two minutes! The usual route would take me 4 minutes. I have to be there in half! In a matter of 5 seconds I have already created a quick route.

"Stop the cab!"

"What?" The confused cabbie asked.

"Stop the cab!" I almost shouted.

"A'right. No need t'be so cranky 'bout it," After he stopped I went out and transferred to the driver's seat, forcing the cabbie out.

"Oy, what in the name o'hell are 'ya doin'?!"

"If you want your cab back, get inside. And fast!" He did as he was told and I stepped on the gas.

I'm coming, John.

John's POV

"Sherlock? Sherlock?!" I am now really, really panicking. Sherlock had just ended the call and I practically have no idea on what to do!

"Calm down, John. Sherlock will be here any moment," Mary comforted as if she is not in a house surrounded by snipers outside and has a bomb inside!

"Calm down? Calm down?! I do have an idea why this is happening but I don't have any idea on what's going to happen next! I mean, our lives are at stake here, Mary! We're expecting a beautiful baby this week and I don't want anything bad happen to her, not even to you…" My voice trailed off and all I could do was stare at the bloody bomb in front of me.

I could feel Mary's arms envelop me. I know that she too is scared but God, she looks so calm about it.

"Yes and I am scared too, John. But I trust Sherlock. Don't you?" She smiled reassuringly.

I heaved out a sigh and eventually my breathing became even, "Right. Sherlock will be here any moment now…"

And as if on a cue, Sherlock's voice echoed from the door.

"John! Mary!"

"In here, Sherlock," Mary was the one who answered and we could see Sherlock run from the living room to the kitchen. It was much lighter here than our bedroom and we can't be so sure of what would come from the door, so we stayed away from the living room.

He went straight to the package and observed it. Unlike our previous cases, he wasn't blabbing the things that he had observed. Instead, he was strangely quiet. But it was reasonable, because this situation needs all his focus and concentration. And so, me and Mary stood there without a sound.

When Sherlock tried to take the seal off, I tried stopping him, "Sherlock, that's—" I stopped myself because Sherlock opened it anyway. As per my reflexes, I hugged Mary and closed my eyes.

I braced myself for impact but there was none.

.

.

.

Except a shattering window glass. I quickly snapped my vision to Sherlock who was visibly angry. It seems like he threw the box - which I suppose was inside the envelope – to our window after taking a look at it.

"Sherlock?" I asked as I slowly let my arms off Mary.

"There was NOTHING on the box!" What? I asked, though I have an idea.

"The box, John! There was nothing in it. The same envelope was delivered to me last night. I only managed to open it this midnight and was, unnecessarily, surprised. There was a seemingly ordinary box inside. Now when I opened it, there was a pasted note that says 'boom!' (He said that word while rolling his eyes frustratingly.) After realizing what it was, I hurriedly went to Mrs. Hudson and grabbed her out of our flat. It exploded of course and Mrs. Hudson was screaming in shock. But that doesn't really matter right now. What matters is that the bomb only affected our flat and not the neighbours! You called and you received a package. Now when you said that its seal is the same as Moriarty's, I knew well that it was a bomb! But no….! No! It was not a bomb but a completely ordinary box! It. Was. Only. An. ORDINARY BOX!" He explained real fast that I almost did catch up. But it was clear that he too is confused and puzzled by all of that had happened.

"Um, Sherlock? Have you checked if nothing else is inside?" Mary suddenly asked and I instantly saw Sherlock's eyes shine in excitement.

"Of course! There should be a note inside, similar to what I have received!" He exclaimed and gave Mary a kiss on her forehead after he took out a note inside the envelope.

I looked at it and it says,

I Still Owe You A Fall, Sherlock Holmes.

"Sherlock?" I tentatively ask at the frozen man.

"Are you okay, Sherlock?" I asked again and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, John. I am perfectly fine. In fact, this was the reason why I came back. I am supposed to be on some undercover work in Eastern Europe and stay there for 6 months. But Moriarty is back, everyone presumed, and now I am here to continue my supposedly 'finished' case. But this… Why? Why did it take him 9 months?" He answered but I'm quite sure that he was asking those questions to himself.

I looked at Mary who was staring at Sherlock's hair again. I don't know why she loves his hair though. But as a doctor I got the idea that it was just all about her pregnancy.

"Sherlock, can I touch your hair?" She asked again. This question always gives me Goosebumps for it makes her look like a hair-obsessed person.

"No, Mary. You can't. Oh…." Sherlock stated and stopped for a thought.

He then faced me and held a gripped on both my shoulders as if trying to make me concentrate.

"Listen carefully to me, John. Call Mycroft and tell him that he needs to look after Mary and hide her somewhere safe. And I mean safe. Now, if you want to solve this final case with me, follow me to the Scotland Yard's headquarters after sending Mary off to Mycroft. Do you understand?" He asked quite determined.

"Are you seriously asking me to ask help from Mycroft?" I needed to ask this question badly. Because Sherlock would never really ask his rival brother for help, well except from helping him fake his death, wouldn't he?

He sighed exasperatedly, "Yes. I am asking for help from Mycroft, John. It's hard for me to say this but, sadly, I have to make sure that Mary is in a place that is safe. And Mycroft, being a 'minor' official in the British Government which practically means 'being the British Government himself', means that he knows the safest place in London – even the entire Europe itself!"

"I know that Mary has to be safe, Sherlock. But what are you getting at?" I asked, really confused right at this moment. Mary looked confused herself.

"Argh! Sometimes I want to experiment on your brain John and check if it really works its systems to its best!" He complained, "The BABY, John! The baby! Moriarty knows that Mary is pregnant and he tends to use the baby to get to me, like what he did before! But the catch John is… Now, I've got two foremost pressure points. He knows that I will have some kind of deep sentiment for the baby and God knows… he's right." He sighed.

"He will use the baby, John. And Mary, being obviously the carrier—" he was cut off by Mary who complained with a 'hey!'. He groaned, "Alright. And Mary being the mother of the unborn baby should be safe."

He finally finished explaining and I finally understand.

I wasn't even able to say a single word when he said, "Now, Anthea is already outside. And here's your phone," then handed me my phone.

"Why do you bloody hell have my cell phone?" I asked as he rolled his eyes at me as if it was very obvious, which was not.

"I nicked it when you were speechless minutes ago. Now go and I'll be on my way to Grey…" I did not bother correcting him that it's 'Greg' not 'Grey', I've given up on it. He then walked outside, with both me and Mary following behind him.

"So there weren't any snipers?" I gave him one final question while he was looking for a cab.

"There was. But only one," He replied and took off.

I watched the cab as it went on.

"John, are you coming?" I heard Mary ask.

"Oh. O-of course," I said and went inside.

I can't help but worry about Sherlock, because for once, the great Sherlock Holmes was not grinning excitedly on a case.

A/N: Hello everyone. I just wanted you to know that I am delighted by the reviews you have begin me and so as it inspired me to do more, please do leave more reviews. And maybe, follow and favorite if that is not too much to ask. Thank you very much and I hope to excite you even more to the following chapters.

Cheerio!


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

John's POV

After 20 minutes on the road, our car suddenly took a left and into a tunnel. I was about to ask but stopped and gaped as the tunnel, which was supposed to be a dead end, opened in half. The car went inside a parking lot that is blindingly painted with white and parked at the front of what seems like an elevator door. I heard Mary do an exciting 'oh my God' reaction while I was thinking how powerful Mycroft Holmes was to have this kind of place.

This is the first time that I was brought here. I mean, most of the times he would kidnap me inside a seemingly abandoned warehouse – which now I doubt a simply abandoned warehouse seeing that everything that surrounds him has a purpose. I was still amazed by what just happened when the driver opened the car door beside me.

"John, are you not coming out?" I heard Mary ask.

I quickly blinked my eyes and went out after saying my excuse. I helped Mary get out and thanked the driver who simply nodded and went back to his seat and drove away.

"I was sent here to lead you the way, Dr. Watson," I was almost startled when someone suddenly talked behind us.

"O-oh… Um, Anthea, right?" I asked the woman who, as always, was busy with her phone.

She nodded while smiling and said, "Follow me, Dr. and Mrs. Watson," and then walked towards the elevator door.

I took Mary's hand and we followed her. The elevator door opened and we went inside. Before the door closed, I got a glimpse of quite number of black cars parked in the parking lot. So that explain why Mycroft is not worried about transportation. I heaved out the sigh that deliberately wanted to escape my lungs minutes ago.

I saw Anthea pushed the 'top floor' button and I assumed that this is going to take a while. But I was wrong because only a minute have passed and I heard the familiar 'ding' of the elevator as it opened. Anthea went out and we followed. She is not even taking a small glance to where she was going and I am pretty worried of the thought that we may be going the wrong way. But I was yet again proven wrong went we were now standing in front of an expensive looking Mahogany door.

I snapped my gaze towards Mary who gripped my coat, "John, are we really going towards Mycroft Holmes or are we going to meet the Prime Minister?" She whispered with a lot of confusion and doubt, but for a moment there I think I saw a glint of excitement in her eyes.

I chuckled softly at her question and realized that she didn't really know who Mycroft Holmes was, except that he has a 'minor' position in the British Government.

"It's something like that, I think… But he's not really the Prime Minister. He's just… Oh I don't know, the British Government?" I told her and her eyes grew wide in more confusion and excitement is finally evident in her eyes.

Sometimes, I wonder if she even spares a thought about our current situation right now. Some psychopath is targeting her and the baby to get to Sherlock and here she is, amazed at Sherlock's brother. But, she is Mary after all. She is someone who has a lot of secrets and the thought of that makes me bloody pissed every now and then.

I opened the door and saw Mycroft Holmes– looking like a proper noble man who has a lot of great power over his country – sitting on his chair in front of his seemingly pricey wood table with papers neatly stacked over it. He immediately looked up to us from reading some papers and gave us his signature smile – which I still cannot derive between fake or not. He is a Holmes after all and I have seen Sherlock do some fake things with his emotion and especially his smile a lot of times already.

"Do come in, John... Mary...," he invited and we accepted the offer. I closed the door and sat beside Mary on the sofa. He stood up from his seat and sat down on the single couch that was on the left side of the sofa that we were sitting. He crossed his legs and looked at us.

"Tea?"

"Um, no… We're fine," I told him but tea is already being served and I simply sighed. He poured tea for Mary and I and gave it to us after.

After a small sip, it was him who started the most important idea of us being here.

"So, my dear brother wants me to help him in this case his?" He asked quite triumphantly.

"Quite surprisingly, yes…"

"Oh don't be, John. This is the second time that he has asked me to help him. But if I have to count the number of times that I have helped him, this would be the 178th time, excluding our childhood days of course," he stated with slight annoyance.

"Really? You counted the times you helped Sherlock?" Asked Mary who reacted first.

"Yes, Mary. And right at this moment, Sherlock deems that you are already in some place safe – which my secretary will be taking you in a moment now after we finish this little chat of ours," he said while looking over Mary.

"So where are you going to take Mary?" I finally got the chance to ask.

"Some place safe, as Sherlock have demanded quite indecorously."

"Right. And may I know where is this 'some place safe'?" I am slowly losing my patience right now, because why can't he just say where he will be keeping Mary? I at least need to know where my wife will be, don't I?!

I heard him sigh exasperatedly and said, "At Mummy and Daddy's humble home."

"And is that a safe place over there?" I know it was quite an obvious question because its Mycroft bloody Holmes, but I have to know if Mary will be alright over there.

"Well, if being surrounded by 68 highly trained undercover guards – with 5 of them medically trained in case Mary here feels that she's about to give birth to your daughter -, being in 24/7 hour surveillance inside and outside the residence area and Daddy being a former MI6 agent himself doesn't qualify your definition of safe dear John, then no," he then gave me another smile of his that I am sure is indicating sarcasm.

I could hear Mary gasp while I sighed in relief and flashed an apologetic smile to Mycroft for doubting his term of 'safety'.

"You have that many guards?" Asked Mary who is still amazed from what she had heard. Is this really the first time that she had heard these kinds of things? Highly-trained undercover guards? Surveillance? MI6 agent? But I guess she already did but was just simply taken aback of Mycroft's capabilities.

"Yes… And yes, daddy was a former MI6 agent. Quite the best in his days I tell you…" he even answered the question that I think Mary was still formulating. He is so much like Sherlock, but a bit politer, it makes me think why they were 'rivals' every now and then. He started typing something on his phone and immediately, Anthea was waiting by the door.

"We have to go now, John. Because I was just told that Sherlock is making quite a mess in the New Scotland Yard's headquarters right at this moment. We wouldn't want that now, do we?" He ask after reading something from his cell phone.

"Uh, yes… Yes, of course," I nodded and looked at Mary who returned my gaze.

"Don't be troubled by Mary's transportation to Mummy's, she will be perfectly fine," Standing up, Mycroft looked over to me and then started walking out.

I faced Mary and smiled at her reassuringly, "Don't worry, after this everything will be fine. I will come back to you and our baby soon," I kissed her forehead and she smiled.

"I'll be fine, John. Don't worry... Take care. I love you."

Hugging her one last time, I said goodbye and followed Mycroft.

This has to end and Moriarty has to rot in jail but if that does not work – which eventually will not – then as Sherlock prefers it, Moriarty has to die. Because for the second time in my life, I am not afraid to kill someone for the sake of the ones I love.

A/N: Hello. Surprise, surprise? Two chapters in one day? ;) Well, this is simply a simple thank you for the good reviews I've been getting and this is a bonus chapter for you all, especially for the ones who left such absolutely fantastic reviews. But don't worry though; I do take criticism like a good sport. So if any of you have any suggestions with my way of writing or plot for the story, I am much obliged to read and accept them.

Thank you so much for all your absolutely pleasing reviews. I am aware that I still have quite a few of those but eventually, I know some will voice out their opinions or ideas. And I know that with my views only nearing 500 in total is not that much but what can I say? I am only a simple-minded person.

Thank you again, and that is all.

Cheerio!


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A/N: Hi. Just a heads up. I will be writing this first part of this chapter in third person's POV. I just wanted to try and maybe like it in a way that I did not expect (I hope). And if you did or didn't, please do share your opinion.

And that is all. Carry on then.

John Watson and Mycroft Holmes arrived at the New Scotland Yard's headquarters with solemn faces. They were not surprised that when they arrived at DI Lestrade's office, Sherlock Holmes was wearing the same expression.

Sherlock was standing in front of the glass window in the DI's office, looking over London like a hunting eagle ready to strike his prey any moment. The doctor cleared his throat to catch the consulting detective's attention but it was clear that Sherlock Holmes was wandering around his renowned mind palace.

The older Holmes himself did not bother his younger brother and walked towards a single couch, making himself comfortable. Not long after, Lestrade barged in his office with a cuppa.

"Oh, seems like the gang's here," he tried joking but failed miserably when he realized that every person there was clearly not enjoying the thought that Moriarty finally made his move.

"Hello Detective Inspector," it was Mycroft who managed to greet the awkward man standing by the door. "May I know what came into your mind and called us a 'gang'?" Annoyance was eminent in the 'minor' British Government official's face.

Both John and Lestrade were taken aback with this question. Clearly, Mycroft Holmes did not take the joke too well.

Lestrade tried his very best formulating a reasonable answer but only came with a stuttered, "I… Erm… Well…"

Does that really bother him? Bloody government bloke, he grumbled in his thoughts and went to sit on his chair.

"So, how much did you managed to know while we're gone, Sherlock?" Ask Dr Watson as he sat down on the sofa, clearly knowing that Sherlock would take the separate single couch across his brother's.

The sociopath blinked and breathe like he had forgotten to for the past minutes and turned around, hands behind his back.

"Well… Not much…" And all the other three knew that Sherlock will start rambling with what he knows already and they should ready themselves in order to catch up – well, except Mycroft of course.

"Just that Moriarty obviously used another person into doing his work. Like who delivered the package, who made the package, who made the bomb, who put the bomb inside the package and who wrote the note in the package. Because it is quite clear that he 'doesn't like getting his hands dirty'. And that is why our only lead is to answer the question who. Now this part is where it gets tricky," he then plopped down on the single couch and interlinked his fingers like he does all the time then continued, "I had gotten rid of Moriarty's network and I guarantee that my work was clean. If he was able to hire new ones then I should know because when I was crushing each one of his networks, I was able to broaden mine. And so far, I haven't gotten any reports that some rats are on the rise from the sewers."

"I have checked both the military and ex-military's actions in cases for this. But unfortunately, not one seems to be interested in finding a new job or even be in a new one. The retired ones are exceptionally enjoying their retirement and those that are relieved from duty are either rotting in jail or is accepting their new lifestyles," the older Holmes informed his brother who seems to be expecting his answer.

"What do we do now, Sherlock?" Dr Watson finally had his chance to talk after several minutes of deafening silence. It was also clear that the DI chose to not join the conversation because he was still not moving on from the reaction of the most powerful man in the room gave him when he chose to speak up.

It took some time before the consulting detective was able to answer. It seems that what message he was waiting for in his phone decides his answer.

The room was in complete silence. The greyish wall clock just above the DI's wall could be heard every second it moved. The rustling of the officers outside could be heard. The uneven breathing of John and Mycroft's calm one could be heard.

And then finally, the most awaited message alert – which John never thought that he would depend the outcome of his life upon it – rang and everything seemed to start moving fast again.

The consulting detective stood up from his chair after reading the message and went straight to the coat rack. He took his coat and scarf, with two men following his every move and Mycroft simply leaning onto his ever present brolly.

"Where are you going?" The DI finally asked.

Sherlock stopped and looked at them with a grin pasted on his face like he always do when he's on a fascinating case.

"There's been a murder that will surely answer our rhetorical 'who'. Now, John my dear blogger," He then looked over to John who was now standing up from the sofa.

"Come on! We've got a case to solve," he then rushed out and was followed by John.

John was almost outside when he went back and asks, "Should I be happy that he is enjoying this? Or should I be mad because my family's life is at stake here?"

"Well, Dr Watson, that is the one question only you can have the last say…" Mycroft Holmes answered with an encouraging smile as the confused doctor went away.

The rustling outside the DI's office and the wall clock ticking could be heard after the consulting detective and his loyal blogger had left.

Annoyed by the earsplitting silence, Lestrade spoke up, "So what now? Should I go with Sherlock? He did say it was a murder."

"Yes, I believe you should." After the comment, Mycroft stood up and brought up his brolly. Lestrade also did the same and straightened his coat up.

He was about to finish his cuppa when Mycroft surprisingly spoke up.

"I do apologise for my words and actions earlier, Detective Inspector. I was merely not in the mood knowing that…" It was the first time that the older Holmes was opening up to the DI and so he gave him his full attention.

"Knowing what?" The DI asked tentatively. He heard Mycroft sigh and leaned again on his brolly.

"Knowing that my brother's life is yet again in danger. And now that he has undoubtedly two pressure points, I am afraid that there might be more worst situations than what had happened two years ago," and for the first time in his encounters with this man, Lestrade saw worry in Mycroft Holmes's once cold eyes.

John's POV

"Have you texted Lestrade yet?" Sherlock asked while looking out the window of the cab.

"Yes," I told him and he nodded with a 'hm'.

"Now, could you tell me where we're going?" I asked again. I have been asking him that for the bloody 6th time since we were at the Yard's and he's still so bloody quite about it.

He sighed and finally looked at me, giving me his 'isn't-it-obvious' look which always annoys me. Because bloody hell, IT IS NOT OBVIOUS TO ME! I know I'm getting really pissed off right now when I should be calm. But how can I be calm when I know that Sherlock knows more and my family's life depended on it!

"Calm down, John. It's not helping," he then crossed his legs and leaned back on his seat.

"I don't really like repeating myself but as I have said earlier, Moriarty hired someone to do his work. And we are supposed to answer the question 'who'. But there are a lot of who's in this case because we could not really assume that all those work were made by one person. Surely, it was an expert – which I know Moriarty will have to keep – in bombing who made the bomb and the package and someone else was told to deliver it. And this kind of work is not really something that assures your life, because after delivering the package you are tend to be killed as because you are now of no use. And that is what exactly what Moriarty did. The surveillance in front of 221B and yours proved me right. Two people were used. One for me and one for you. The one assigned to me was a fairly large man with about 6 feet in height, broad shoulders that could reach up to a meter and dirty-blonde haired. This is not much information of course but my homeless network were able to report that the same man was claimed 'missing' by his family. Hm, dead I propose," Sherlock was cut from explaining when the cab stopped. I paid the cabbie and stood beside Sherlock.

.

.

"Is that why we're in front of an old cemetery?" I asked as I glower at the view in front of us. We were now in a cemetery which is clearly old and abandoned. With tomb stones having a crack or crumbling, grass in the colour of pale yellow and a statue of what seemed like an angel being bound by vines. I looked at Sherlock who was in deep thought. He then suddenly flashed a knowing grin and went inside.

I don't know what's happening right now but this is clearly unlike any other cases that we solved.

A/N: So what do you say? Should I continue the Third POV? Though actually, I have already decided that I should simply include one every once in a while in some chapters.

I hope you liked this chapter because it actually took my time just staring into space. Haha.

Cheerio!


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

John's POV

I was looking around the uncanny cemetery when Sherlock called me. I stood beside him and saw that someone else was there – except for the two dead men on the ground of course which was clearly just from their graves. It was Bill Wiggins holding a shovel, the druggie who has 'nice observation skills' according to Sherlock. Well in my opinion, I think Sherlock did not like the fact that there are others – excluding Mycroft – who could deduce like him. Or did he?

"Hm," Sherlock who was now looking over the two dead men.

Billy started telling us what he knows – more like, deduced, "Both of them were ex-con. The dirty-blonde one was killed first, judging by the colder temperature of blood on his forehead. Both were killed with one shot straight to their heads, except that the auburn haired one was shot up front because the blood went out from the back of his head. They clearly did not go home last night judging by the creases and dirt on their clothes and shoes. The auburn one obviously doesn't have a family because he doesn't brush his teeth and no one gets annoyed of that every morning. The dirty-blonde has two daughters, simply because he keeps their pictures in his wallet," he then showed a picture of two girls in the arms of their father.

Sherlock then followed Bill's deductions, "Before delivering the package they both came from a pub. They were given their own time tables because the auburn one stayed in the pub longer. That explains why the blonde was killed first because he was the one who delivered the first package. And I assumed that the other one was a little bit drunk when he delivered the second package, because of the dirt on the envelope that was clearly from his right thumb which he used from picking up his dirty cigarette stick – " He was cut off by Billy again.

"Which he uses often when he's nervous. I saw an unfinished one on the way here," Billy then showed Sherlock a cigarette which was clearly lit hours ago.

I stand there, mouth slightly hanging from the conversation, more like deduction, going on between the two.

"Sherlock, are you really not taking him as your apprentice?" I asked out-of-the-blue.

Sherlock gave me a frown and I immediately closed my mouth.

"And how do you know that they came from the same pub?" I asked again but cut Bill of with a guess, "Is it because of their smell and the dirt on the elbows of their jackets?"

Sherlock smiled and said, "Finally, John! You're catching up."

I sighed grudgingly when I realised that it was sarcastic. Should I just shut up now?

I put my hands behind my back and waited for Sherlock to say what we're going to do next. I saw him close his eyes forcefully and opened them, showing hints of triumph.

He looked at Bill and grinned, "You've been doing great Billy, but you missed one important thing."

The man across him knit his brows together in confusion, "And that is what, Mr Holmes?"

Sherlock looked at me then to the dead bodies, "They both hate me…"

Billy looked at him like he's bursting out of mystification while I look at Sherlock like he just said that to prove to Billy that he's not that good.

He cleared his throat and copied my position, "I remember them both. The blonde one is Ben Harington, a once good family man who had a good job and great family. Until one day, he found his wife cheating on him with his co-worker. Out of anger, he 'accidentally' killed the two. He then asked help from me but it was one of the dullest cases, so of course I declined the offer. The other one is Harold Smyth. Gay," he stopped when I asked 'what'. He then looked at us like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"H-how?" I asked.

He groaned and extended his arms out wide, "His 'well-polished' nails. How could you not see that?!"

"Sherlock, just because he has well-polished nails doesn't mean he's gay. Mike polishes his nails every two weeks!" I reacted.

"Yes…" He countered with his monotonous voice and snapped back at me, "But not pink. Look at his feet. He is still afraid to show the world that he's gay after all those years but he just couldn't stop himself from 'painting' his nails. I was sarcastic with 'well-polished' John and said 'painting' because it's terribly done which brings me into further deducing that he tried doing it himself."

After his ramblings he looked at his phone, searching for something.

"I did see it Mr Holmes, but I thought it was just style," with that comment from Billy, both me and Sherlock gave him an odd gaze.

Style? Really?

Sherlock cleared his throat and continued his ramblings earlier, "He was found shagging another man years ago and he killed the man who found out – because as I have said earlier, he's 'scared' about the world finding out. But 'unfortunately' the one he shagged saw the crime and had the confidence to tell the police with a little bit of extra with him being forced into being shagged. He came to me, just like Benny here, his case was dull, I declined, and he goes into jail. End of story. Or so I thought…" He said all that while still searching something in his phone.

"You see, this is the reason why I keep telling you change the world 'dull' into 'I'm sorry but I will not be able to help you because it is clear that you are guilty and you must suffer the consequences'!" I glared at Sherlock.

"Why would I say that? It'll only waste seven seconds of my exciting life," he said.

See? He even counted the seconds! Arrogant bloke.

It was only about two minutes when things finally had a move again.

"Billy, wait for the Yard to come here and explain to them everything that happened. Tell them Sherlock Holmes knows you and if they don't believe you, deduce someone. And I would prefer the curly-haired sergeant if you were to take my opinion, which of course you will," Sherlock said and flashed a smile to Bill.

"Now come on, John. We don't have a time to lose!" He continued and started walking away.

I followed him and asked, "Where are we going?"

He grinned, "To a pub. We are going to find our bomber."

**insert The Game is on soundtrack here**

We arrived at the pub and were surprised when a lot of people were already there. I mean, it's still eleven o'clock in the morning. Sherlock went straight to the counter and ordered a pint of beer.

I sat beside him, "How many millimetres, Sherlock?"

He rolled his eyes at me and laughed, "Please, don't remind me of those."

I laughed with him and I started looking around. I also ordered a pint to make everything look normal. Sherlock was looking around too, searching for something specific unlike me.

The pub was fairly full. The left side was full of drunk men not caring about a thing in the world as they witter on bluffs about their 'lives'. The other side was filled with men playing cards.

And as if on a cue, the bartender spoke up in a thick Irish accent, "D'ya fancy playin' cards lad?"

I looked at him while he was drying a glass off, "No-"

Sherlock cut me off immediately, "Yes he does… Why?"

I wanted to glare at him but he was too focused on the man in front of us.

"Well, it's yer lucky day! If 'ye good at playin' o'course," Sherlock then gave him a look that wanted him to continue.

"There's this—," The man was cut off when we heard a loud thug which was followed by shattering glasses.

"You were cheating!" Shouted the man who crashed on the floor. I looked at the man he was shouting at and knew well that it was him who sent that man crashing to the floor. He was clasping-unclasping his knuckles which, I am sure, he used to throw the bruised man away.

"I beg to differ Mr Adair, but I am most certain that I did not cheat," he politely explained as he straightened his three-piece suit and brushed off the dirt that was on his left shoulder.

I looked at Sherlock to see if he was seeing this and he did, quite intently at that.

"Oh yeah?!" Mr Adair shouted and stood up, anger was very clear in his face.

"Yes. And I assume that you are reacting this way because you have lost quite shamefully." For a well-built man, he has such fine choice of words. If Mycroft was here, I would think that they were co-workers. I couldn't help myself and gave off a silly smirk to that thought.

Everyone was staring at him like he is the most interesting being in the world as he walked towards the table and took the money on it.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I shall take my price and my leave for I still have a lot of things to do," he clicked his shoes then walked towards the door and took off after saying, "Carry on, gentlemen!"

"Let's go, John. Our bomber is not here," he announced. I was about to follow him when I noticed that he did not even move his pint. I swallowed it in one gulp, endured the taste, and left some money on the counter.

"Not here?" I gave off a question when I was able to catch up with him.

"Yes…" He went inside a cab which I followed after of course, "Not here…" he continued. But I was quite sure that another word followed that, I just didn't get to hear it because it was more like a whisper to himself.

I was about to ask him about it when my phone suddenly rang. I quickly answered it when it showed 'Mary'.

"Mary?" And immediately, Sherlock's gaze snapped to mine.

A/N: I am sorry for the cliff hanger. I just couldn't get to stop bringing myself to it. Haha.

I guess some of you have already guessed who this person is. But please, I ask of you to keep it to yourselves because I still want to have that 'mysterious' effect. Bear with me? :)

Thank you! Especially to IceKiss for your absolutely incredible and supportive reviews! :)

Cheerio!


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sherlock's POV

I looked at John with an encouraging gaze. He just had a conversation with Mary and I wanted to know what they talked about. I am not really doubtful about the place where Mycroft had brought Mary but I am doubtful about Mary herself. She tends to do 'responsible' things at times and that troubles me.

John cleared his throat and kept his phone, "Mary told me that she is having a great time at your parent's house and that she hopes I could visit soon."

"Oh…" I responded.

Wait…

"At my parent's house?" I asked, baffled. Mycroft, my 'responsible' brother, put Mary into our parent's house? Is he turning mad?

"I had the same reaction too, Sherlock. But don't worry, your brother is not mad," John leaned on his seat. I might have said all those things out loud. Hm.

I decided not to discuss any further because I still have lots of things to think of and I will let Mycroft think about Mary's safety just this once.

I was looking out the window of the cab when John spoke up, "Your father was a former MI6 agent?"

Believe me if I tell you this now, but John really was in deep bewilderment. One of the things I can't get to stop myself from liking, his innocence. But he's John Watson, of course he's the innocent one!

"Yes… And as much as it pains me, he—" he finished my sentence for me, which was not new but not really often.

"Was quite the best in his days," I looked at him and he was grinning.

I looked at him, well, stared. I observed him. There were quite a lot of emotions that can be clearly seen in his face, particularly in his eyes.

Worry. Of course, his and his family's lives are in danger. He should be worried.

Confusion. He's John, he's always confused.

Excitement. Everyone should be. It's the thrill of the chase that gets every nerve in my body pumping. But for John, it is part of his life. He's incomplete without it.

And lastly…. Hope. Now this one, I couldn't reason out this particular 'feeling'. I never really had 'hope' because I know how things would happen and I wouldn't 'hope' that it would turn the other way around or 'hope' that everything would be alright when I knew clearly well what would happen next and what I could do to attain the result that I wanted. See? I don't feel this 'hope'. I never 'felt' it before. And so, I have to ask John.

"John," I called out. He snapped his gaze at me and met my eyes. He gave me a frown and I leaned back at my seat.

"Hm?"

"You see… I can see from your face and eyes that you are worried which was acceptable because your family's life is in danger. You are confused which I don't want to elaborate any further because that's just simply your nature. You are excited which was reasonable because it's part of your life. But you are 'hoping'… I don't quite understand. Why are you 'hoping'? What are you 'hoping' for?" I finally asked him.

I waited for an answer and was confused by the reaction that he gave me.

He laughed.

"What? What's so funny? Why are you laughing?" I gave him continuous questions and felt a bit of a deja 'vu.

"Really, Sherlock? It's just like when you were giving your best man speech!" He continued laughing.

And that answered why I was feeling the latter.

"Seriously, John. Why are you laughing?" I knew well that my brows are meeting and I won't give much attention to it until John explains why.

"You know, Sherlock? You really are the smartest person in the world, but you can be quite an idiot at times," he said all that between his hysteric laughs.

I crossed my arms and slumped back on my seat, leaning on it even further.

"I am not an idiot. I am simply a person who sees world a lot more different than you all 'ordinary' people," I looked out outside then glared back at John.

"Now, if you'd be 'kind' enough to tell me what you are going on about, I won't deduce the cabby starting from his incredibly ridiculous hat."

I smiled in triumph as I saw John's eyes flashed worry. He cleared his throat and sat up properly.

"I was laughing because I am incredibly amused by the question that you gave me. Why was I hoping? What was I hoping for? Really, Sherlock?" He then looked at me and I now felt the 'feeling' that they feel when I know the most obvious thing in the world and they did not.

"I was hoping that everything will be alright in the end of this case. I was hoping that nothing bad will happen to Mary and the baby. I was hoping that you won't turn completely mental while you solve this case. And I was hoping that you Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, will save me and my family from the danger that's coming for us," he then gave me that hopeful expression again and all I wanted was to look away, but… I couldn't.

I blinked and finally had the strength to look away from John's gaze.

"I am not a hero John…" I murmured.

"Yes, you are not a hero. But, you are our hero…" I flashed him another confused frown. This man in front of me likes making me confused, doesn't he?

He chuckled after seeing my expression as he made himself comfortable on his seat, "You have saved a lot of people, Sherlock. And you have saved mine a lot of times. But you won't really be everyone's hero if they don't trust their lives into your hands… That's why you are our hero Sherlock. Me, Mary and the baby trust our lives to you," he then gave me a warm, encouraging and hopeful smile.

I looked away again because I didn't want him to see the sudden change in my expression. I know I can't see my face right at this moment, but I am aware that I am clearly showing signs of concern and, it pains me to say this but… Sincere happiness.

I did not want to admit that of course. So I said, "How do you even know that the baby trust's her life to me?"

He chuckled and I am well aware that he was giving me that 'I know that you are trying to avoid the topic because I know that you were touched' look. And believe me, that was one of the most annoying looks that he was capable of giving me.

"Because I am her father. And she will get that from me, my trust for Sherlock Holmes…"

I tried to suppress a smile that is trying to creep of my lips. But I knew that I failed when I looked at my reflection at the cab's window.

We arrived at St. Barts and I immediately went out. John followed me but I stopped him.

"Go to the Yard and ask Lestrade about any additional information about the two dead men at the cemetery. Then come back here," I told him.

"Right," he agreed and carried on.

I went straight to the laboratory and found Mycroft sitting on my usual chair.

"Hello, brother dear," he then gave me that fake smile of his – which was far more annoying than John's looks.

"Hello, Mycroft," I stood up in front of him and glared, "I can see that you have made yourself comfortable."

"Yes, yes I did." He passed me a file that he was keeping with him for quite a while, "Here are the files that you were asking about."

"Hm," I accepted it and started reading. I looked at the picture of the man who bombed my flat and scared John.

Yes… I already know who that man was. It was easier than I thought it was, actually.

"Sebastian Moran. Former Colonel Sebastian Moran, retired army, currently lives in Conduit Street, Mayfair – lovely place –, he is the son of the late Sir Augustus Moran, he tends to play cards in some pubs during weekends, and he looked like he was enjoying his early retirement. An almost perfect cover," Mycroft started explaining, which was not needed because I can read it damn well from these files that he gave me!

"Yes. An almost perfect cover that you were stupid enough to believe," I smirked at his mistake.

He gave me a glare – which of course did not affect me but gave me more amusement in contrast.

"I only 'almost believed' his cover Sherlock because his works are clean. That's one of the reasons why he was a big loss when he retired from the army. His works are clean. He never leaves a mission incomplete. He never leaves any evidence behind. Even in killing, his shots are clean. He only gives one shot each person and assures that they are already dead with that one shot. He is a remarkable officer. But one day, he retired from the service. Awfully early, I must say. No one knew the reason behind any of it because there were no known scandals. And that was five years ago. His routine was the same ever since. He has a small shop downtown that deals with weaponry. Everything there is legal. Because, as I have very much stated earlier, he works clean," Mycroft continued and stood up from my seat. He leaned in his brolly and I let myself finish what he had started.

"Not clean enough to fool me. But, with further investigation – "

"That I am afraid cost the lives of two of my agents," I glared at Mycroft for interrupting but continued anyway.

"You found out that he is the biggest dealer of firearms in London's Underworld. And he goes by the alias 'The Hitman'."

"Yes… And we were able to find out that he has some sort of connection with Moriarty. Though, I am afraid my men were not able to gather more of that information."

"Pity. That proves that your men are pretty worthless. Because it is clear that my network is better than them. Moran is the right hand man of Moriarty, brother dear," I smirked at him mockingly which he did in return.

"Yes, brother dear. Which you were supposed to 'crush'," he grinned in triumph when he saw me hiss.

"Shut up, Mycroft!"

"Oh, sorry. I was merely stating the obvious, brother mine."

I am aware of my mistake but I did not want to admit that in front of Mycroft of course. That will be the end of the world! Well, my pride actually.

I glared at him while he was enjoying mocking me.

I sighed and stared at the picture of the man who put me and Mrs Hudson lives in danger. The man who scared the hell out of John. And the man who I am trying to get Mary and the baby away from.

"Well, Mycroft, if you can stop acting like a child you can take your leave," I hissed at him.

He raised his right eyebrow and looked at me, "And why is that, brother dear? That would be rude for I am still enjoying this victory of mine."

I glared at him for the fourth time and said, "Because, 'brother dear', we are now facing the second most dangerous man in London and I don't want your childish behaviour to distract me from solving this case."

His expression suddenly became grim and cold – which I much preferred than his 'fake smiley face' – and said, "I am not presenting any childish behaviour, Sherlock. But for once today, I agree with you. You are right, Sebastian Moran is the second most dangerous man in London and he needs to be stopped."

A/N: Hello there! I am very grateful for the new reviews that I have received. And I thank user BeeLock for your review. I will do my best into checking and improving my work . And I will surely keep writing! :)

Thank you!

Cheerio!


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

John's POV

I just came from the yard and was carrying some files when I met Molly on her way to the laboratory. I walked up to her and asked if Sherlock was still in there. Because Sherlock leaving without me knowing is not really new to me.

"Yes, John. He's still there with Mycroft," she smiled at me.

"Wait… Mycroft is with Sherlock?"

She nodded. So that explains why the black shiny car outside was familiar. I opened the door for Molly – like the gentleman I was – and followed.

I saw Sherlock talking about something very serious with his brother. This was one of those wonderful days when both Holmes's are not arguing when talking to each other.

I placed the files on the table and watched as the two exchanged opinions. They argue sometimes but not to the point that they start banging each other with insults.

"I could get used to this," I murmured which was not a good idea because both of them immediately snapped their gaze towards me.

"Hello, John…" Mycroft greeted. I smiled at him and gave them a confused frown.

"Sorry, w-why did you stop?" I gestured at them.

Sherlock's brows were meeting now and I could clearly see that he was a little bit baffled.

"Oh, sorry. When did you come in?" Sherlock finally spoke up.

"Um, about a minute ago…"

Molly cleared her throat and it took my attention to say, "And I came here with Molly too. You two just were… um… too engrossed with you conversation, which I was not able to get to understand."

They looked like they were relieved by the thought that I did not understand what they were talking about and that kind of ticked me off.

"Hello, Miss Hooper," Mycroft nodded to Molly.

"M-molly is fine," replied Molly with a slight flush. I think she is still not used to Mycroft being this polite. Unlike Sherlock here who was just staring at something interesting in his phone.

Mycroft's phone suddenly rang. He read the messaged and heaved in a heavy breath and looked at Sherlock, "Well Sherlock, I have to go. I am afraid that an urgent matter has occurred. Something that needs my attention."

Sherlock did not bother answering, so what am I to do? Answer for him as always.

"Yeah! Have a nice trip, Mycroft," I said and he gave me another of those smiles of his.

"Yes John. And Mary sends her love," I saw him glimpsed at Sherlock before getting out of the room.

A minute passed and Sherlock was still not talking. I did not want to disturb him because maybe he was in his mind palace, but I wanted to know what he and Mycroft was talking about just now.

"Sherlock, would you mind telling me what you and Mycroft were talking about?" I started asking.

But it seemed that his phone was much more interesting than my question, so I did what always gets his attention.

Yell.

"Look here, Sherlock! I want to know what you and Mycroft were talking about just now! Because you were clearly cautious about me hearing about it when you knew that I was listening! I want to know because I know that it concerns my family! And for God's sake! I want to stop being the IGNORANT ONE!"

I heard him sigh and saw him keep his phone in his pocket, "Don't be so hard on yourself, John. You're not 'ignorant', you are 'innocent'. There's a difference."

"Are you seriously trying to piss me off?!" I know my face is fairly red right now but I don't bloody care even if Molly gets out of this room – which she did!

"No, John. I am not trying to 'piss you off' because you already are. Why try?" He looked at me with his dull-looking face and continued, "And will you calm down? I was going to tell you but Billy sent me something interesting and you should have waited."

I gave him a look that says 'I don't bloody hell care; just tell me what I want to know now!'

He groaned but started talking while looking at God-knows-what with his microscope.

"The man who made the bomb was Sebastian Moran. If you would kindly read his files," he gestured at the files just near his microscope, "He was a former colonel in the British army. He retired early, lives in some fairly good place, owns a weaponry store downtown and loves playing cards in some pubs during weekends."

I took the files and all Sherlock stated was there. But I knew there has to be something else.

"And? Is that it?"

He rolled his eyes at me then continued, "Nope. Obviously. He is the biggest firearms dealer in London's underworld. And he is also Moriarty's right hand man."

I frowned in confusion. How is that possible?

"What? But I thought you already—" I was cut off by Sherlock's glare which was followed by me understanding the situation.

"Right… He is Moriarty's right hand man…" I whispered to myself. With that one glare, I, who was fiery angry earlier turned to a sympathizing-understanding friend.

It took me quite a while though to realise something, "Does that mean that he's still working for Moriarty? That means he is still alive?!"

"Argh.. Yes and no," Sherlock then looked at me straight in the eyes, "Yes, he is still working for Moriarty and no, Moriarty is not alive! I saw him KILL himself John! How can he be alive?! MY eyes are enough proof!"

I could tell that he was really mad right now because he wasn't able to destroy Moriarty's entire network. And knowing Sherlock Holmes, he doesn't particularly like not completing a case. So, I chose not to talk further and went up to Molly who just came back.

"Is he alright?" Molly immediately asked.

"Yeah… Just… pissed," I told her and continued reading Sebastian Moran's file.

Sherlock's POV

I looked at John from the corner of my eyes while he was reading Sebastian Moran's files. He looked really sympathetic earlier that I almost forgot about what Mycroft and I talked about. I mean, we did talk about 'The Hitman' but our discussion was far more than that.

My phone beeped and it showed that it was a message from Mycroft.

Have you told him yet, Sherlock?

MH

I groaned in frustration which John fortunately did not notice.

No. Not yet.

SH

Well, as the saying goes Sherlock: The earlier, the better. Which brings me to the subject; I have already finished half of the preparations.

MH

I know that, Mycroft. There is no need to remind me.

SH

Good. Tell John and 'let's get this over it'.

MH

I was slightly amused by the expression that Mycroft had given me. If it is not in the form of single quotation, I would believe that he is starting to learn 'modern' words.

Or perhaps he learned those from Lestrade. I smirked at the thought.

I stopped mocking my brother and went back to the situation at hand. I needed to tell John.

**Flashback of what Sherlock and Mycroft talked before John arrived***

"Well Sherlock… In order to make this plan of ours to work, you have to get John out of the picture," Mycroft stated and looked at me with those eyes that he used when talking to his subordinates.

I snickered at it because it never really affected me, "John will never agree to that, Mycroft. And even if I did try doing the same trick that I did two years ago, he would not believe one bit of it again I assure you."

"Oh? Did you really think I did not know that, brother dear?" He raised his eyebrow at me.

"What is it that you suggest then, Mycroft?" I asked, irritated.

"Chase him away."

"What?"

"You heard me, Sherlock. And I do not like saying things again."

"I can't 'chase him away'! He'll be mad at me! Are you crazy, Mycroft?!"

"No. I am not crazy," he leaned closer to me and continued, "Focus, Sherlock. John is evidently your top-most pressure point. And keeping him safe is your top-most priority. And for the sake of solving this case, you will need to focus into capturing Sebastian Moran, the very man who will try his hardest to 'murder' you. In order to focus, your inconsiderate mind has to be assured that John is safe. Because it is quite clear that Moran will use John to get to you, just like what Moriarty did. That is why, brother mine, you have to find a way to get John as far and as safe as possible. And since he won't 'take the trick twice' you have to chase him away." Every word that Mycroft had said annoys me but at the same time pierced though my mind.

I had always hated admitting that Mycroft is right, so I stayed silent. But nodded after a moment of thinking how I would 'chase' John away…

***End of Flashback***

I heaved out a sigh after remembering that particular scene. But, in order to get rid of the threat, I had to put John somewhere safe.

I called John who was still in the middle of reading.

"John…"

He immediately looked up with those innocent eyes of his and walked towards me.

"Yeah?"

I readied myself for the words that I was formulating earlier and cleared my throat.

"You have to go, John."

He seemed confused with my words, so he asked, "What do you mean? Where should I go? Should I go back to the Yard to get some more information about Sebastian Moran? Or—"

I cut him off and said everything straight to its point, "No, John. You have to go. I don't need any of your help anymore. You will only be a nuisance in solving this fascinating case. You. Have. To. Go," I tried my hardest into putting emphasis in every word to get John to understand.

I was not disappointed. He understood every word and his expression changed from confusion to anger.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Sherlock?" He tried supressing his voice but I knew too well that he wanted to burst in anger.

"You know well what I am talking about, John. Now, if you'll excuse me, I still have to fathom about Moran's pros and cons," I tried acting like it was nothing for me when I desperately wanted to take all of what I had said back.

Solving cases without John doesn't feel right, it's not… natural. That's why I wanted him to be there with me as I solve this case. But in order to be able to solve this case, John had to stay away.

'I' had to make him stay away.

I could hear him try to steady his breathing and he managed to do so, another of his qualities that I liked.

"A nuisance? Is that all I am to you all this time?"

No John, you're not. I said to myself.

"You know what? Even though it bloody pains me, I don't care! My family's life is at stake here, Sherlock! And I want to solve this case not just because it's 'fascinating' or 'enjoyable' but because my family's life is at risk because of this case and you know bloody well who is the reason behind all this. Not Moriarty! Not Moran! But you, Sherlock Holmes! So I want to solve this case, to make sure that my. Family. Will. Be. Out. Of. Danger," he was now clasping-unclasping his knuckles which he always does when he's angry.

But when I looked at his eyes, something else was there rather than anger… Hope.

And for the first time, I know that he is hoping that I will make him stay.

I wanted to tell him that he could stay. I wanted to tell him that I'm doing this to save him.

But what I said to him was quite the opposite of what I wanted to tell him. Even the emotion that I wanted to convey, everything was simply the opposite.

"If you're done with your pointless witters, John, one of Mycroft's cars is waiting for you outside. You will be sent to my parent's house and you will stay there with Mary until I solve this case," I continued my work earlier – which was pointlessly taking a look at the microscope in front of me.

I could see him grip his knuckles from the corner of my eyes, but I looked away before he sees me.

"Right… If that's what you want then, alright. I won't argue with you anymore with my 'pointless witters'," he leaned in closer to me with red-angry eyes and continued, "Just remember this, Sherlock: I trusted me and my family's life into your hands. And I won't take that back. But if you could have at least given me some of your trust Sherlock, just a small bit of it, this would not be that painful." He then left, the door banged and the silence of the room echoed in my ears.

If you could have at least given me some of your trust Sherlock, just a small bit of it, this would not be that painful.

John had left some time already but this statement of his continued ringing in my head and all I could do was angrily throw the petri dish towards the wall, breaking it into pieces.

"Sherlock?" I heard someone call.

I looked at Molly who looked both confused and concerned.

Without warning, I felt some sort of hot liquid fell from eyes.

Am I crying? Am I _honestly_ crying?

A/N: Yeah. I just have to write a chapter today to not waste it. School is in two weeks and I want to finish this story before that. So far, this was the idea that popped into my head when I was pondering with what to do with Chapter 8. And to simply clear things up a bit, I put 'honestly crying' because he doesn't really cry out of emotion. He cries to gain something that he wants. At least, in my opinion (based on The Game is on and The Reichenbach Fall). XD

So that's practically all that I wanted to say. I don't know if this chapter is quite good. Because as Mycroft clearly states it, "Only you can have the last say…"

Thank you!

Cheerio!


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Molly's POV

"Sherlock?" I called out to the consulting detective who just threw another of our laboratory's petri dish towards the wall.

He looked at me, and instantly I saw fresh tears flowed from his eyes.

I immediately went up to him, "Sherlock? Are you crying?"

He quickly blinked the tears away, but I could see that he was as confused as I am of what had just happened.

"I'm not 'crying', Molly," he stated and acted interested with the microscope in front of him.

"Yes you are. Just now, I saw tears streaming down your face," I countered.

"I am aware that tears were streaming down my face just now, Molly. But it doesn't mean that I was 'crying'. I never cry! Well… I do. But only in some situations that needs 'crying'. Like convincing a victim or a witness that I am 'concerned' and 'affected' in order to get the information they have, and trust me, they are always deceived by the sudden sentiment and concern," he looked up and continued, "And 'tears', Molly, is the excess of liquid from the eyes either from intense emotion or…! By irritation of the eye! And in 'my' case Molly, I 'teared up' because something went into my eyes!"

I did not know what to do, but one thing came into my mind… I chuckled at Sherlock's defensiveness. The said man then snapped his gaze towards me with confusion.

"Why are you laughing? Have you all turned mad? Just this morning John had…." He stopped for a thought and I got a hint of what had sent Sherlock crying.

"John had?" I encouraged him, well, more like teased.

He cleared his throat and blinked after staring at something really interesting from the wall, "John had… John had laughed at my innocence of why he was hoping…" His voice trailed off and I knew that there was something more.

"And?" Now, I was honestly trying to encourage him to tell me what was going on, and maybe, just maybe I could help him again.

"And… And now, he is angry at me for…"

"For what, Sherlock?" I held his hand which was now turning oddly white from his endless clutching of his knuckles.

"For…" He forcefully closed his eyes like he did not want to say the words, but he managed to mumble them nonetheless, "For chasing him away."

I was confused why Sherlock had to chase John away when he knew he needed him. So I asked, "Why would you chase him away, Sherlock?"

"Because…" His voice was getting hoarse and I knew he wanted to be alone. Because Sherlock Holmes is a person who would rather choose not to be embarrassed than to be comforted when he shows his hidden emotions. I managed to know that when I helped him fake his death two years ago.

I gave him a small-assuring hug and went out quietly. I locked the door from the inside and left… letting the great Sherlock Holmes fall once again.

John's POV

It had been two days since Sherlock chased me away since he doesn't 'need' my help anymore and I am only a 'nuisance' from solving his 'fascinating' case.

Until now, I still can't get over the fact that Sherlock did not even trust me and sees me as a nuisance.

I am not an idiot to not see that what he had done was for my own good and for my safety. And that was okay.

What I was mad about was the fact that he couldn't trust me enough to let me solve this case with him. He couldn't give me the equal amount of faith that I had in him.

I mean, why can't he just be confident that Moran won't be able to use me against him? Why can't he see that I will do my outmost best just so what happened two years ago won't happen again?!

I was too engrossed in asking questions to myself that I didn't realise that Mary was calling me.

"Y-yeah?"

"Are you okay?" She tried to check my temperature and looked at me with a worried face, "I've been calling you a lot and you weren't listening. It's like you were in space and I even said 'Hello? Earth to John?'" An amused laugh from her then followed.

I laughed with her and softly pulled her down on the sofa with me. We're at the family room of the old couple while they were cooking in the kitchen. Mary and I wanted to give them a hand but they reasoned that we are their 'guests' and guests should just wait and relax. There really was no hope in arguing with Mrs Holmes, so here we are, waiting and relaxing – which I couldn't seem to do because I'd been thinking about what Sherlock was doing right at this moment!

"I'm fine… I'm fine…" I assured her as I kissed her forehead. I wrapped an arm around her when she found comfort in my chest. I slightly relaxed from the gesture and kissed her hair.

"Thank you, John…" She suddenly whispered to me.

"For what?"

"For everything," she looked up to me and I stared at her eyes, "For coming into my life. For accepting me even though I am not who you think I was. And for caring."

I smiled at her, "And I thank you too," I saw her frown a bit but I continued anyway, "For being there when Sherlock wasn't… when he left. And for completely changing my life when it was a complete nightmare."

"You're welcome," she beamed happily and I kissed her lips softly, contented that I'm here for once.

"Just promise me one thing," I told her and she looked attentive in listening, "Don't die on me just like what Sherlock did. Well, I mean he did not really die, but you get the message."

I heard her laugh and I made myself satisfied with this moment.

"Just… Don't leave me like what Sherlock did. You know what it did to me and I don't want to be that way again," I told her and chuckled as I saw her pout.

"Oh, John…"

"What seems to be the problem, Mrs Watson?" I teased.

"You really did love Sherlock, didn't you?"

I sighed heavily and nodded at her, "I did, Mary… I did."

Closing my eyes, I hugged her tight. After she soothingly promised that she won't do the same thing, I slowly felt my eyelids getting heavy and I knew that I was up for a nice, relaxing sleep.

A/N: I usually write longer chapters but, you know that feeling when you just have to stop because the scene is so perfect and you shouldn't just go ruin it? So yeah, that's the reason why this chapter is a bit short. Actually, I wanted this chapter to support the last one. Because I honestly felt that Sherlock was a bit out of character over there and I wanted this chapter to get him into character again. But it turned out that this chapter was more than that, if I do say so myself. It turned out to be us knowing the John once loved Sherlock. That is all for now. I assure you that the next chapter will be much longer.

Thank you for the views and reviews! :* I am trying my outmost best into improving my way of writing! :DD

Cheerio!


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

A knock from the door took my attention away from reading some files given to me by Mycroft. I looked up only to see Lestrade frowning at me.

"What?" I asked as I attempted to do the same.

"Are you really not going to the hotel Mycroft had arranged for you and Mrs Hudson? I mean, the old lady's starting to love it there and you're here," he stated and looked around the room, "In my office."

"Is it just me or is there something in your office that makes you feel so awkward about it?" I did not hesitate telling him what my mind was thinking. It's Lestrade, he's regrettably used to it.

"Oh I don't know! Maybe because you've turned my office into your own den in just two days?!" Oh, so that's what this was all about.

I looked around the room and seen nothing bad about laboratory equipment on his coffee table, a fairly huge file of papers on his sofa and desk, and crumpled papers on the floor.

"Are you waiting for me to say thank you because you have let me stay here for the past two days?" I sarcastically asked.

"Well… no. I mean, yes. But that's not really the point now is it?" He raised his brows at me.

"Well detective inspector, you should really 'point out' your 'point' because I still have a case to solve," I then tried focusing on the papers in front of me.

It had been two days since John had left and everything was not quite right. Normally, I would talk to John about the things that I have figured out but now that he was not here, I could only hear his words. But when I look at my side, he's not there. And things were just not right. I would always feel that something was missing and I would realise that it was John.

John had always been there and I have always wanted him to be there. Yes, I needed him to help me with fetching some things for information but what I really need him for was for me to focus. John had always been one of the reasons why I could focus with thinking and now that he's not here, I couldn't seem to put everything in place.

"My point is… Mycroft is worried about you. You know that John isn't here anymore, right? That means, no one would be able to check on you when you're working. And trust me Sherlock; Mycroft is really worried about you," he stared at me like it would help him convince me.

"I am not really a fan of hotels. Lestrade. The scent, the fabrics, the carpet. Everything about it! I just hate the thought that a huge number of ordinary people had once slept, ate and stayed there. I would still be able to feel their low IQs and it's a nuisance from me thinking! It's like I am in front of a lot of Andersons!" I grimaced, "So you see? I'm not comfortable there. It wouldn't feel like home!" I argued.

He sighed, "And my office feels like home?" For a moment there, I think I saw a glint of happiness flashed from his eyes.

"Hardly… But it'll do," I answered, rolling my eyes.

"Right… I just 'really' wanted you to know that Mycroft is 'really' worried and he'd 'really' like it if you'd at least stay in the hotel," he then started walking towards the door. That was a lot of really(s).

But before he could leave, I called him, "Lestrade?"

"Yeah?"

"You've been spending time with Mycroft an awful lot these past few weeks. Will I be expecting a happy announcement by the end of the month?" I smirked at how his cheeks suddenly flushed in red.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Sherlock?!"

I copied his expression earlier, mocking him, "Oh I don't know! Maybe I'm talking about you spending almost all of your nights at my pretentious of a brother's house because of the sudden smell of expensive leather from your jacket and the unusual shininess of some specific parts of your pants and arms! And for Christ's sake Lestrade, if you want to impress Mycroft, drink his damned favourite tea properly! You've got a stain on your shirt."

I almost laughed at the expression that he was conveying right now. He was beet red; his ears were red, his lips pursed and his eyes meeting.

"I was only there to help with a case! And how did you even know that I was in Mycroft's place and not just some other expensive place?! Have you been there? Because I think you didn't!" He tried to reason.

"Oh? Are the government and the yard now actually helping each other in terms of solving a case? Aren't you supposed to interact with one another if it's something more than a simple case? Like papers! Court sessions!" I flashed him a bored look and continued, "And I knew that you were in 'his' place because John… was in the same state as you are now when he went to Mycroft's…" I almost trailed off from the thought of John.

"I told you! I was only there to help him solve a case!" He dared continue to reason. Thank goodness he did not notice.

"What case?"

"Uh…. Y-yours," he defeatedly stated.

"And you couldn't just 'help' me directly solve this case? You really just have to 'help' Mycroft 'help me' solve this case? Well aren't you an eerie detective, Detective Inspector?" I smirked at how he couldn't formulate words that could counter me. Oh, the ignorance of ordinary people.

"Well… Ugh, whatever, Sherlock! I just came to tell you that!" He almost shouted in what seems to be 'embarrassment', "Good night," he called out sarcastically before shutting the door close.

"I was merely stating the obvious," I whispered to myself as I thought of Mycroft showing some kind of sentiment when he's with Lestrade. If Mycroft still sees me as an idiot like I was when I was still a little boy, he's absolutely wrong. I'm not blind to not see his dilated pupils when he thinks he's left alone with Lestrade. And I am not deaf to not hear him give his secretary orders about following Lestrade because some criminal or addict will try to attack him because of him meddling with their 'business'.

I was still mocking my brother again when my phone rang.

Hm, if it isn't the devil himself.

"Mycroft," I answered and leaned on Lestrade's seat. Now I guess this was one of the reasons why Lestrade wanted me out. I took hold of his entire office.

Oh, so you just noticed that now? I heard John's voice contradicted me.

I wanted to retort from my head's petty imaginations when Mycroft answered from the other line, "What did you do to Lestrade?"

"What?" I tried acting innocent, but I knew that was one way of taunting him.

"Well, the fact that the Detective Inspector had left the Yard's building with an unlikely frown, means that you did something that was not to his liking," he sighed.

"I did not do anything," I then smirked when I remembered something, "I merely stated the obvious, brother mine…"

My smirk grew wider when I knew that he remembered that particular scene; when he was mocking me with the thought that I wasn't able to crush Moriarty's entire network.

"Sherlock…" I could picture him rubbing his temples from an imaginary head ache.

"And how did you know that he just left from the Yard's building with an 'unlikely frown'? Have you been following him through surveillance now, Mycroft?" I teased him even more. He was not the only one who could play at the mocking game really well.

"No, Sherlock. I knew that he had just left the Yard because I was in front of it the entire time," I could also picture him flashing a fake smile.

"Oh? Why were you there then?" I continued the game that he was not up to play for.

"It's not 'were' Sherlock, it's 'are'. Because I am still here, waiting for my childish brother to come down…" He trailed off and I knew then that he was serious.

"Why? What happened?" I asked promptly as images of John kidnapped started swarming in my head.

"Nothing that concerns John yet, Sherlock," he assured me. I sighed in relief as the images started disappearing.

"Though I must ask you now to come down here. We have arranged a meeting with Sebastian Moran and I would like you not to be late."

After hearing what he had to say, I hurriedly took my coat and scarf and went straight out.

Sebastian Moran. He really is the right-hand man of Moriarty, simply because he uses others to get to his actual target. Oh, they use such dirty tricks. I sighed to myself. What am I thinking? Of course they'll use dirty tricks! They're criminals! It's their way of doing things!

"How nice of you to join us, Sherlock." Mycroft greeted as I went inside the black car that he always had with him around, much like his ever present brolly near his side.

"Us?" I asked and rolled my eyes as I saw Lestrade in the front seat.

He glanced at me by the mirror, "I told you! I was helping him solve your case!"

I glared at him then to Mycroft, "Where and when?"

"At the casino of the hotel where you were supposed to be staying," he glared back, "Ten o'clock sharp. You are Andrew Flemming. A wealthy buyer from the north. You are from Ireland. You are known to make deals with no one knowing who you are. But, as a respect of Moran being 'one of the most powerful in London's underworld', you will close a deal with you showing yourself."

"I'm an Irish?! And… Andrew?!" I reacted. I never imagined myself having a very common an ordinary name. 'Sherlock' was the name my mother gave me and God knows it's one of the things that I hardly ever thank her for. Though I know that William is also a common name but 'Sherlock' is there at the very least!

"Yes. You're an Irish. And yes, Andrew. I wanted to name you that when you were born. Sad to say, Mummy had other 'ideas'…" and he really did looked regretful.

I continued glaring, but now at the unfortunate seat in front of me, but managed to sigh in relief. At least she didn't let Mycroft name me. It would be a complete nightmare!

"I managed to fake all of that Sherlock, so I presume that you will also manage to get the information we want," he stated.

I looked at Mycroft and he was looking grimly at me.

"Of course… Obviously," I countered and I felt him sigh.

"Perfect," he glanced at his watch, "You have about 36 minutes to prepare…" He nodded to the chauffer and the car started moving.

I looked out the window and immediately, John occupied my mind.

I sighed and leaned back on my seat.

Wait for me, John. I am trying to solve this case as fast as I am capable of. Maybe then, after this, I will be able to tell you the reason why I chased you away. I will be able to tell you how I felt when you weren't there. I will be able to tell you something that I have always meant to say but never have. Do wait, John. Do wait.

A/N: Hi. I don't actually know what to say but… yeah! Thanks for your amazing views, reviews and follow! :D You have all made me the happiest in the world.

IceKiss: Thank you for the reviews! :) And don't worry they are absolutely not annoying, it's actually what I just need. Because you know, I'm not really that good with proof-reading. Haha. Thank you so much again! :D

Thank you!

Cheerio!


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Sherlock's POV

When we arrived at the hotel, Mycroft almost shoved me out of his car towards the hotel. I growled at him then went inside after earning another of those fake smiles of his.

I went straight to the room he prepared and found two men – one gay – and three women in the sitting room. I'd say that there was one couple in the group… and that would be the two people who were sitting on a couch that is obviously for a single person. They immediately stood up after realising that I have arrived.

I looked at each of them and there was no doubt that they are from some kind of a salon.

What were they doing here? I have one absolute idea. Mycroft, that idiot of a brother.

"Sherlock," And as if on a cue, I heard the voice of Mycroft from the laptop on the coffee table.

"What are they doing here, Mycroft? Do you think I won't be able to dress myself properly? I'm not a child, Mycroft! I –" I was cut off by the man himself.

"Then don't act like one, Sherlock," I looked at him and he was very serious, "They are merely there to help you put on a disguise. Remember Sherlock, you are not the great Sherlock Holmes! You are Andrew Flemming, an Irish criminal mastermind. You are here to close a deal with Sebastian Moran."

He stopped and I saw him lean back on his chair, "Since you are his target, you will be easily recognized. Obviously, you will need a disguise. Now, let them do their work, Sherlock."

I glared at him while letting out an exasperated sigh. Truly, things could always be the worst when it's Mycroft.

I despised admitting that he's right, so I rolled my eyes and sat at the seat that was obviously mine.

"You have 25 minutes. Begin," I heard Mycroft command the five people in front of me. They nodded and immediately went to work.

The woman wearing an extremely tight skirt and another who was wearing the complete opposite with glasses started 'destroying' my hair. I tried calming myself as the 'destruction' continued.

The other girl, who looked like their leader, went to the bedroom to prepare something.

The two men were now working their 'magic' on my face, putting a mustache. I could still remember the time when I saw John having one. It was completely hilarious. Immediately, I wanted it gone. Because he was so much more – I cut myself off and sighed. What am I thinking? John is already…

I groaned yet again, earning a confused look from one of the two men working on my mustache.

I ignored them of course.

I still couldn't get over the fact that John had suffered very much after I had left. He suffered more than I had ever imagined. It pushed him to stay away from 221B. He did everything he could to forget me. He even –

I was cut off from thinking about John when I felt my hair being pulled; instantly, I felt my patience reach its end.

The two men were done with their work so they were fairly away from us. So…

"Get your hands off of me, or!" I glared at the woman wearing the tight skirt and did my best in whispering, "I will tell the leader of this 'pack' of yours that you are cheating with her boyfriend that is so obvious because you are using the same shampoo. You are even wearing his shirt! Your leader must be an idiot! And you…" I glared at the other one, "Continue what you were doing and I will tell everyone here that you're a drunkard. How did I know that? Oh please! You have dark-deep eyes which was not appropriate for a salon worker because your work stops at 5 in the evening and you're not taking very good care with your glasses even though you look like a geek – which means when you go out for a 'drink', you sometimes forget that you have them and you often leave them on places that results its unreasonable scratches and marks. So, deep-dark eyes, mistreated glasses plus your almost perfectly disguised alcohol scent I hence deduce that you are a drunkard."

As expected, both of them stepped away and I stood up and went to look at the mirror in front of me.

My hair was obviously not done yet, so I finished it myself. The other side of my hair was straightened while the other was curled at front and straight at the back.

My mustache was not too much, enough to hide some of my features.

"Sir, you can now change your clothes," their leader informed me.

I went inside the bedroom and found a suit impeccably laid on the bed. I looked at it and grimaced at the tie. Mycroft knows I don't wear ties! It's very irritating around my neck!

Obviously, I only wore the shirt, jacket and pants. I left the vest and the annoying tie. Honestly, how can Mycroft be able to wear such bothersome clothes? With all the buttons and the frustrating ties! London might be a cold area but I would never dare wear such infuriating garments.

After taking one of the glasses that their leader presented me, my phone beeped. I opened it after I saw that it flashed 'Mycroft'

5 minutes, Sherlock.

MH

I know that, Mycroft!

SH

I went out and saw four fairly built men dressed in black suits, one of them carrying an attaché case. My phone beeped again and I rolled my eyes before reading it.

You could have at least worn the vest, Sherlock.

MH

Did you really expect me to wear those? Of course not!

SH

Enough about that, Sherlock. I, in my defence, had tried.

MH

Regrettably and sadly, Mycroft knew a great deal of things about me that I am most remorseful for. And things about these suits were not an exception. I could still imagine him saying: 'Sherlock, you need to wear the suit! Mummy will be very upset if you didn't.'

I sneered at that memory as I went inside the elevator, followed by the four guards. One of them pushed the button and I was not even surprised that it did not stop until we reached our floor. It was annoying that Mycroft had a great deal of power even in this hotel, but at the same time I was relieved that I wouldn't be able to continue enduring the uncomfortable silence with the guards even further.

As the elevator door opened, I instantly felt the atmosphere of the room.

Sophistication, power, elegance, class yet at the same time envy, desire, disgust and competition all in the same room. This was simply a glimpse of Mycroft's everyday life, and I already hate it!

The humble and unpretentious ambiance of 221B was what I really wanted right at this moment. The dust that I desperately want Mrs Hudson away from, the comfort of my couch and the smell of John's coffee. Everything about this room was simply the opposite of my meek flat! And it's frustrating!

One staff of the casino was standing near us. When he saw me gestured for him to come, he immediately did.

"Yes sir? How may I be of service?" He asked.

I desperately wanted to roll my eyes at this man. Because the fact that his marriage had been broken off just recently by the trace of a ring on his ring finger – which basically means that he's still obsessed with his ex-wife because he still wears it when he thinks he's alone – and the wrinkle lines on his forehead – which was not suitable for a man in his early 20's – means that he was a man that's going through a lot of problems yet he could still manage to smile irritates me.

But I was not here as Sherlock Holmes who deduce people, I am here as Andrew Flemming – an Irish man who is extremely dangerous. I had to be in character. And so, I looked at him with piercing eyes, standing like a powerful man and said in an Irish accent, "Andrew Flemming. Here to meet Sebastian Moran."

He seemed to get the message because he started leading us to a more private part in the casino.

He immediately opened the door of the room that said "V.I.P".

I did not bother looking at him and went straight inside. I saw a nicely glazed mahogany table between two leather chairs. I looked around the room and its design was completely different from outside. It was personalised. And it was very, very obvious that this was used for more than one transaction.

I sat down on one of the chairs, crossed my legs and waited patiently but powerfully. If I was looking at myself right now, I would say that I was a man who's not supposed to be kept waiting.

I was not disappointed though, because a minute later the door opened and the man that I was begrudgingly waiting walked in.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr Flemming. There were some things that required my attention and I could not simply leave it. It bothers me," he now stood in front of me, smiling like a businessman aching to close a big deal.

He extended his hand for a handshake.

I took a small glance at it and grimaced in my mind, "Oh, how I wanted to break that hand of his."

But of course, I said the complete opposite, "That's a'right Mr Moran. I know how i'feels and i'really is bothersome."

I shook his hand and we both sat down.

"So… Shall we carry on with our business?" He immediately asked.

"O'course! Let's start!" I was at my very best in speaking in an Irish accent. Everything was going according to plan and all I needed was to extract information out.

I saw him smirk at my response and nodded to his guards behind him. Two of them put the cases they have with them on the table.

The guard who had my attaché case put it on the table as well.

Both of us slowly opened the cases and his smirk grew even wider.

"I have a feeling that this will be an impeccable deal…"

"You have no idea, lad… You have no idea," I glared through my glasses when I knew that he wasn't looking.

I desperately wanted to remove that smirk off of his devil of a face, but I had to stop myself. For me to know more about this devil in front of me was the top-most priority.

In order to save John, I had to do this right.

I smiled to myself at the thought of John.

Dear God! The things I do for John…

A/N: Hello! Thank you for the continuous views, reviews and follows! :D You have all, yet again, made me the happiest in the world. And as usual, if you have any constructive criticisms, I am most certain that I am willing to read all of them. :)

Thank you!

Cheerio!


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"So, Mr Moran, I heard you've got a huge power here in London!" I started a conversation. The two of us were leaning on our chairs and both knew that this meeting was more than a simple business deal.

"Yes… But not London itself. I would very much prefer the 'underworld' of London…" He stated and smiled – which was obviously faked.

"Oh? Sorry 'bout that…" I responded while acting nervous – it is Andrew Flemming's first personal deal after all -, "You see, I was told that your business here is huge! And I'm real interested on how you did it. Because, you know, me business could need a little bit of improvement."

Moran chuckled and intertwined his fingers, "My… Talks like those have reached Ireland already? I must arrange one of my visits there."

"Oh you must lad… You must," I gave him a knowing smile.

I knew that he was trying to change the subject, but I was not one of those idiots who'd simply let him.

So I continued, "W-would you mind sharing your way of handling your business?"

I looked at him and he knew that I was not going to back down.

"There are quite a number of ways, Mr Flemming…"

"O-oh? I am willing to hear all of it then, Mr Moran," I saw him softly sigh and I smirked at myself, I had won. I had easily won.

"Alright then," he tried his very best to look relaxed on his seat, but he was not very successful at doing so. If this conversation was not disguised, I would laugh at him. Simply because he once worked with Moriarty yet wasn't able to get the cleverness of his dead boss in terms of talking. How boring, this man!

"To start, I want to tell you that this was a family business…"

Hm, I had suspected that when I read that he just retired from the army four years ago and he immediately became a powerful man in the criminal world. I knew there was something else.

"Was?"

I looked at him and smirked yet again. Moran was having a hard time minimizing the amount of information he could give me. But because he was thinking that I am some kind of an Irish criminal mastermind that he needed to be acquainted of to be able to extend his 'business' in Ireland, he was required to answer.

He fidgeted – not enough for the others in the room to see but perfectly enough for me – and answered, "Yes. Since my father had died and we have no relatives whatsoever to run the business. I am the only one left. You don't really call yourself a family when you're the only one left, do you Mr Flemming?"

"No, 'course no… I-is that the reason why you left the military?" I flashed him the question that sent his gaze towards me.

A gaze that was confused but if you look even deeper, you would realise that he also expected that question.

Still with the acting, I supported my question, "S-sorry 'bout that lad… But as someone who is making a deal in person for the very first time, I had to know things. And one of those things was you… leaving the military when you were such a big asset for them. You were a colonel!"

He flashed a lopsided smile, "No… That is very reasonable, Mr Flemming. And in our business, that is considered professional like. And yes… a colonel."

I nodded, "So, did you leave the military because your mum and dad died?"

"Actually, my mother died when I was still a boy, but yes… I did." Lie. Simply because it was said that he left the army without any controversies. If his father died when he retired, it should have been on the news, knowing that his father was a distinguished man. And Sir Augustus Moran died a year after his son retired.

For a criminal mastermind, this man was very easy to manipulate. Well, for me, that is.

"And you took over the business after your dad?"

"Yes." Lie. His father wouldn't have let him take over their business when he was still capable to run it. He was still in his late 50's.

"Wow. It's good that you were able to continue it. I-i mean, you once worked for the government and you retired only to work against it," I continued.

He crossed his legs and shuffled on his seat, "Yes… I'll tell you a bit of a secret Mr Flemming, since you are one of my biggest clients yet."

"Wonderful. And I should tell you lad, I am really good with keepin' secrets," I faked an assuring smile.

"I could absolutely see that, Mr Flemming –" I cut him off with a friendly wave.

"Please… Andrew is okay," I looked at him and he looked taken-aback. He may not be expecting this boldness but I have to gain even a bit of his trust to be able to gain more information.

According to an article that I have read, calling people by their first names makes them comfortable. So, if a person calls you by your first name, he is comfortable with you and the other way around. Of course, he would have to practice it if you have just met until he will feel utterly comfortable talking to you. And if you are comfortable towards a person, you will start trusting them and so on and so forth.

Ugh, I still don't know why ordinary people state it so ignorantly.

'Comfortable' and 'trust'! They are simply one of the messages that are sent to your brain through your neurotransmitter that gained information through your neurons. You then think you are 'comfortable' with them and you 'trust' them, but those are simply one of the messages. If you think even further, you will realise that there is always something more. Something that is hidden between 'comfort' and 'trust', something that has malice.

In my case though, I had to make him 'trust' me so that I would acquire more information. And knowing that he's not as clever as his dead boss, he wouldn't think of that 'something' that has 'malice'.

I hid my triumphant smile when he was about to answer. But he was cut off by one of his guards who came near him and whispered something in his ear.

I saw him nod grimly but relaxed sometime after. His guard went back to where he was supposed to and I saw each one of them positioned their hands towards their guns.

"I apologise for the distraction, Andrew," he stated while putting emphasis on my disguised name, "I was told that we have an uninvited guest in the building," now it was his turn to look at me knowingly.

Immediately, I knew that my cover was blown.

"Oh? And who's that?" I continued with the play.

He was about to answer, but he was cut off yet again. But now, by one of my guards who went near me and whispered, "We're experiencing a jam in the connection, sir…"

I nodded at him and he went back to his position.

And now, I realised my mistake… Everything was easy. TOO EASY.

Moran cleared his throat and continued, "No one that means harm, I assure you…"

It was an insult. An insult that I desperately wanted to refute.

I stayed silent, deducing all the possible ways of escaping the room.

It was his time to counter, both of us knew, "And about the secret that I wanted to tell you… When I was still a little boy, I neglected the business the first time my father introduced it to me. I was a 'fan' of justice and goodness that time. Innocence, I must add. But as the years went on, I realised the cruelty of the world. An example of this was when I tried rescuing a little girl from a dog chasing her. I was practicing my shooting skills that time with a bow and arrows. Out of the need to help her, I shot the dog dead. But instead of thanking me, she ran away, afraid that I will do the same to her. The owner of the dog went to our house and faced my parents, telling them that their son was a killer. I was devastated of course. I did what I thought was right, but how the world sees it was the complete opposite. Similar situations followed after that. When I was studying and until I became part of the British Army. Everyone was the same as the little girl and the owner of the dog. People you save are afraid of you. People see you as a killer, not as a hero…" he trailed off and he was now smirking at me.

"And if you are very interested why I left the army, I wanted to kill the General," he grinned, "And to do that, I have to leave the Army to avoid controversies. You see, the General and I were having a hidden war that time. He wanted me to bomb a village in Iraq which was a hideout. But it was not that simple because there were innocent people. But he said that to save the people, you have to sacrifice some. And it was also a suicide mission. I contradicted these values because I value the life of my subordinates and the people involved so I disobeyed him. But… he called another unit that was led by my closest friend. My friend was unable to defy the General because he was the only one working for his family. He knew that the mission will be his end but for his family – whom the General assured that will have all the support they need – he accepted. He died. I was in rage. I retired a month after and killed the General after five long and planned months. It lasted for five months because I had to make sure that my name wouldn't be on the list of suspects. The trials would be very bothersome and I wanted my name to be as clean as possible –"

I cut him off with a grunt. Clean.

He continued without even taking a glance at me, "And if you're very interested with me taking over the business… I killed my father because he was not agreeing with me taking over. Of course it was not easy killing him; he was a powerful man after all. So I had a bit of a help from a certain person. He helped me. My father died –"

"And in return, you became his right hand man…" I cut him off yet again, but now, I was not Andrew Flemming… I was Sherlock Holmes.

He smirked at me, "Yes… Yes I did, Mr Holmes…"

I glared at him, knowing that there was no use with playing. After all, he was a man who was not willing to play games.

"You know, Mr Holmes… It would really be my pleasure to kill you right now, but that would ruin all my hard work from planning your dramatic 'fall'. And besides, John Watson is not here…" his smirk grew even wider.

His smirk annoys me by the minute and when he mentioned John's name I wanted to burst in anger. I am aching to punch this damned man in front of me!

But I tried to calm myself…

Images of John happily sitting on his couch in our flat started flooding my mind. And instantly, I calmed down.

"Should I consider myself lucky then, Sebastian?" I might be thinking of images of how to wipe of that smirk, but I also knew how dangerous this man in front of me was.

Yes, I had met ex-soldiers before but he was the complete opposite. Some of them might be behind bars right now because of their uncontrollable destruction, but this man… He uses his ability of destruction with discipline, with grace and immense power.

And right at this moment, I am overwhelmed with all of that.

"For now… I think yes. You should consider yourself lucky, Sherlock Holmes," he stood up and closed the cases on the table. His guards immediately took each and Moran continued, "Well, 'Andrew', I am afraid that our deal is simply not possible now that it's obvious that you're not an 'Irish criminal mastermind'. I still have to complete some preparations for a certain someone. Forgive me, but I shall now take my leave…"

I was staring at the empty chair in front of me the entire time he was talking. I simply didn't want to be more irritated by the triumphant expression he had on.

I heard the door open but I heard him called, "Oh, by the way Mr Holmes… Do tell your brother that he's not the only one who has access of all the surveillance. And, you can't always protect John Watson, 'Sherlock'."

The moment he left, I heard my phone rang.

I was still looking at the most interesting chair in the world when I answered it absentmindedly.

"Sherlock? Are you alright?" I heard Mycroft asked from the other line.

When I wasn't able to answer, he repeated the question, only then that I noticed that I was on the phone.

"Y-yes…" I almost grunted when I stuttered. Why in the world did I stutter?!

"What happened? The guard's connection had suddenly been jammed and we lost connection," worry was clear in his voice and I tried to disguise my mistake by mocking him.

"Your sentiment is showing, Mycroft," I mocked though I knew that we were both not interested in our mocking games right now.

I heard him sigh in relief, "What happened, Sherlock?"

I stayed silent for a moment. Everything that had happened started flooding my once clear mind and suddenly I was loss for words.

"Sherlock?"

"I…" I clutched the arm rest of my chair and managed to reveal the only words that came in mind, "I-i… I want to see, John… I want to see John."

And the line suddenly dropped.

 **A/N: Hello! I am so sorry for the delay of this chapter. BGT was a bit of a distraction – a good kind of distraction. Haha. I really hope that you like this chapter because really now, I spent half of my day just sitting on my chair and typing all the things that come in mind. I'm weird, I know. Haha.**

 **And if you noticed any mistakes, please don't hesitate putting it in your reviews. I will surely read, accept and learn from all of them. :)**

 **Thank you for the views, reviews and follows! I am absolutely happier than Isaac Waddington. XD**

 **Cheerio!**


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Mycroft's POV

"I-i… I want to see, John… I want to see John."

As soon as Sherlock stated those words, I ended the line. I ordered Anthea to make sure Sherlock gets to his hotel room safe. When she left, I ordered the others to leave the room.

We were at surveillance room while Sherlock was at the casino. We had additional cameras installed in the hotel, especially Sherlock's room, his floor's hallway, and the casino. When we weren't allowed to install cameras at the VIP rooms, I knew that the transaction would take place there. But it wasn't really that hard to put cameras there nonetheless.

His guards had been my straight connection to Sherlock.

Everything was going as planned. Sherlock was doing an excellent job. But suddenly, we lost connection.

The people responsible with surveillance reported that there had been a jam. There had been an intrusion.

The moment that it was accessible, Sebastian Moran had left the room.

Sherlock was sitting on his chair, staring absentmindedly on the chair in front of him.

Out of instincts, I called my brother.

His unresponsiveness made me anxious. His expression made me angry. Angry at myself.

I never failed to protect my idiot of a brother since the day he was born. And when I was finally powerful enough to access all the surveillance in London, I was able to look after him though far. Because of my power, I thought that I could look after him and keep him safe at all times.

But I was wrong. Because this…

Seeing Sherlock dumbfounded and unable to know what to do simply means that I am quite a failure of a brother. This was not how Sherlock should be.

Everyone might think that I never cared for him, with all the mockery and all the insults but we never really liked sentiment. And so we both did not liked showing it though we know we both have it.

The way we treat each other was mutual.

I care deeply for Sherlock. I never wanted him to get hurt mentally and emotionally. Physical pains are easy to endure, but mental and emotional, it is never easy.

Sherlock never liked being topped. He didn't like losing a game. He didn't like losing something or someone he loves. And he absolutely despised it when the other player was winning.

And right now, my brother was experiencing everything that he disliked.

My brother is my pressure point. And seeing him acting like a little boy lost in his way, I am distressed and livid.

I was still pondering about my failure when I heard DI Lestrade call me.

I was unresponsive at first but I managed to answer.

"Yes, Detective Inspector?"

He scratched the back of his head like he knew that he just interrupted something but continued nonetheless, "Well… Sherlock's outside and he wants to talk to you."

I smiled at him, "Thank you for the notice. Do let him in."

He nodded and Sherlock came barging in, his glasses was gone as well as his moustache. I looked at his hair and instantly, I knew that he was irritated for it would take a while to return to its original state.

He stood in front of me and looked at me straight in the eye and said, "I'm going to solve this case with John…"

I gave him a frown and answered, "I thought we had agreed about this, Sherlock. John Watson will be with his family safely, with me keeping them safe."

"No. John will be much safer if he was with _me_." He indicated as his gaze turned into a glare.

"No, he will not, Sherlock. And I clearly told you that he will only distract –"

I was cut off with Sherlock himself.

"Distract me?! Of course he won't distract me. Because right now, Mycroft, I am thinking of how John is even though I know that he is safe with his family. And that is more distracting! I can't think straight if John is not with me! So you see, Mycroft? In order to keep John safe, he needs to be beside me!"

I was about to answer when DI Lestrade responded first.

"You're not making any sense, Sherlock!" He was frowning and utterly confused.

I didn't bother voicing out my opinion though because Sherlock did not really make any sense.

"Not making sense. What do you mean not making any sense?!" Sherlock walked about the room and almost yelled, "Can't you see what's going?! Sebastian Moran is a killer who is not willing to play games. If he wants to kill someone, he will and he can. He is not like Moriarty who uses his power to play with people! Moran is someone who would do everything according to his plan and straight to its point! And even if John was under your watch Mycroft, he would still have him one way or another, not bothering if he has to kill others in order to do so. And in my case, I will do whatever it takes to alter his plans! And that's me saying that I will do everything in order to keep John away from him. And I could only do that if he was with me."

I sighed and looked back at him calmly, "Sherlock, I think I gave you enough proof that I could keep John and his family safer."

He glared at me, "Do you want to know what happened when your connection was 'jammed', Mycroft?"

I stayed silent and waited for him to continue. I knew that there was something that he desperately wanted to prove me wrong and I wanted to hear it.

"Sebastian Moran is someone who clearly despised the government. He was once loyal and had always fought for justice. But the 'cruel world' and your 'government' pushed him to change his opinions in life. He killed a general because his friend was forced on a suicidal mission. And he killed his father because he won't let him take over their business. So you see, he would kill anyone who gets in his way without anyone knowing he did it. Because his father was a distinguished man, he was likely to have connections inside and outside your beloved government and obviously he inherited those connections. For four years he ruled the criminal world as the right-hand man of Moriarty. Majority of Moriarty's network may be gone but his influence remained and clearly it was passed on to Moran when he died. And as much as I hate to admit it, Mycroft, we were wrong!"

I glanced at Sherlock when he said those words. He never really liked admitting that he was wrong, but this time, he did. How very unlikely.

"Moran 'was' the second most dangerous man in London. Moriarty is already dead! And Moran took over his 'throne' and he is now obviously the most dangerous man in London. He has power and he's not merely using it to 'show off' and 'play'. He uses it with great discipline and with reason…" He trailed off and sighed and calmly continued, "He is the complete opposite of Moriarty. He doesn't leave clues. He simply sticks to his plan. And we only 'know' that he would kill me, not 'how' he would kill me."

We were somewhat competing in a staring contest when DI Lestrade confoundedly raised his hand, like he was surrendering towards something.

Sherlock and I looked at him and frowned.

"Sorry but… I don't really understand." With that statement, Sherlock and I's frowns turned into an amused one.

The DI might have noticed it because he crossed his arms and returned a frown, "Don't look at me like I'm some kind of an idiot! I know I was barely able to catch up with Sherlock's rantin', but I got the idea. What I don't get is that… why do you want John to be with you when he is obviously safer under Mycroft's watch?"

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes at the DI, "During the time when the connection was lost, he told me that he was planning my 'dramatic fall'. He arrogantly assured me that John will be there, and he 'will' be there. He will use John to get to me which means his target is John. If John knows what will happen he will be safe. We will be devising a plan that John will know because he will obviously have a part in it."

The confused man's mouth was slightly hanging open. It would seem that he had understood and I assumed that he felt rather pathetic for not 'catching up'.

I sometimes ponder if this man really was a detective.

"Oh… So that's what this was all about… We're going to plan something and we'll let John know and…" His eyes flickered knowingly.

He was mumbling to himself while Sherlock and I were looking at him amusingly. Clearly, the detective was still in some sort of trance.

"Please stop it, Detective Inspector…"

"Shut up, Lestrade!"

Sherlock and I simultaneously remarked which instantly took the DI's attention.

"What?" He frowned.

"You were—"

I stopped my brother's forthcoming insult by a wave, "Gregory, will you kindly escort Sherlock towards our parents' humble home to get John?"

Sherlock groaned and started walking towards the door.

"Yeah… Course," the baffled detective agreed and followed Sherlock.

I followed them through surveillance.

When the DI caught up to Sherlock he asked the question that he seemed to have been formulating since he understood the situation. I was rather interested, so I listened well.

But I never expected the outcome.

"So… You can't think straight if John is not with you?" He asked. It was obvious that he was teasing Sherlock but curiosity was still eminent in his eyes.

I almost chuckled at Sherlock's reaction; he was 'knocked for six' as the DI would have described it.

"Shut up, Gary!" Sherlock reacted and went straight out of the building.

"I'm just gonna get my car… And it's Greg for Christ's sake!" Gregory countered while laughing and went towards the parking lot.

But Sherlock was not willing to wait. He hailed a cab, went inside and left the DI sighing.

I saw him took out his phone and dialled. My phone started ringing after.

"Sorry, Myc. I guess he really just want to see John as soon as possible," I heard the DI's voice from the other line.

"That's quite alright. But I would ask that you follow him though, Gregory… He could be quite reckless at times. He thinks of John Watson's safety when it's his life that Sebastian Moran's after." I sighed.

I heard him chuckle. I saw him glance at the surveillance right above him and smiled, "That's Sherlock if it's about John, alright… He just really doesn't bloody realise it yet."

"I, without a doubt, agree with you, Detective Inspector…"

"Yeah. Well, got to dash!" He then went inside his car and ended the call.

He started to move away and I continued to follow him through surveillance as I have with Sherlock who was now stopping for a red light.

"Sir, the Prime Minister wishes to speak with you," Anthea notified taking a brief glance at me and gazed back at her rather useful blackberry.

"Yes. Keep them in surveillance," I instructed the surveillance team and walked out of the room.

My car was, of course, waiting outside of the building.

I was thinking about Sherlock, the DI and undoubtedly John.

I still couldn't believe that someone, other than I, was capable of handling Sherlock. It was quite an achievement for me as his brother.

Both the DI and John knew the dangers that would be coming towards them and their families if they are acquainted with Sherlock. Both knew the possible consequences yet they chose not to leave and simply continue. I acknowledged their bravery. But bravery is idiocy. And I couldn't handle another set of idiots in my chaotic schedule.

Yet with the current situation in hand, I couldn't help but thank the extra set. Because without them, I wouldn't worry about Sherlock constantly when I am incapable of being there beside him.

I sighed and faintly smiled, "Oh how I wish nothing terrible would go their way…"

Anthea looked up from her phone with a confused expression.

"Sorry, sir? What was that?"

I shook my head lightly and leaned back on my seat, "Nothing, Anthea… Nothing…"

 **A/N: Hello. I hope this chapter is to your liking. :)**

 **If you noticed any mistakes, please don't hesitate putting it in your reviews. I will surely read, accept and learn from all of them. :)**

 **Thank you for the views, reviews and follows!**

 **If any of you are interested…. I was and always will be TEAM CALLUM and I love David Walliams. ;) Haha.**

 **Thank you!**

 **Cheerio!**


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Sherlock's POV

As the green light flickered from the traffic light, the cab started moving again.

I was thinking of how to tell John. How to tell him that I needed him with me. And how to tell him that I am sorry for letting him think that he was a nuisance to me.

I smiled as I thought of seeing him again. It's only been days since my blogger's not with me and truly, I missed him. Though I would never admit that to anyone, especially to him.

I sighed as I looked out the window.

Will he accept my apology and come back?

Well, of course he would. He could be angry though, but like the time when I asked for forgiveness with my fake death, he will obviously forgive me. Simply because he's John Watson, my blogger, and he is incomplete without his main character.

'My'? 'His'?

How –

I stopped thinking about John when I noticed that we were going the wrong way.

I looked at the cabby by the mirror and asked, "We're going the wrong way, you i—"

I was cut off when he looked up and looked at me straight in the eye through the mirror, "Oh, sorry Mr Holmes. We're just having a little detour."

When I saw him smirk, I knew well that Sebastian Moran had made his move.

Instantly, I calculated all the possible scenarios that this cabby would take me.

The place. The possible number of people waiting. The possible outcome. All of the possibilities ran around my mind and counted them as seven.

There were seven possible places. Three possible number of people waiting. And two possible outcomes.

The cabby must have noticed my strange silence because he spoke, "Don't worry, Mr Holmes. We won't kidnap you yet."

I smirked at him, "Oh? Is that an assurance that you won't try to impair me if I tell you that you are a very irresponsible father, a drunkard, a stupid and ambitious son who always disappoints his parents and a cheating husband? Mm, who am I fooling? Of course you won't, because you can't! Why? Because you've been recruited just recently," I saw him frown and I rolled my eyes, "How did I know that? Oh please! Trembling hands, cold sweat and regularly checking the mirror as if I would be able to go anywhere!"

He stayed silent as he held a tight grip on the steering wheel.

"Dull…" I commented as I decreased the number of possibilities.

He told me that they wouldn't kidnap me yet. That leaves the two possible outcomes into one: He would torture me just to show me what he is capable of.

The place wouldn't be something that is capable of a kidnap situation. It would be something disposable. Somewhere that has lesser surveillance and somewhere dark and has ease of access and outlet. That leaves the seven possible places into two: The abandoned shop just two streets away if the cabbie takes a left and the dark alleyway near the dump if he takes a right.

The possible number of people waiting? Five. He wouldn't show off that much. Just enough to 'scare' me.

If I'd like, I could get out from this cab by hitting the cabbie with heavy blows along his vital points starting with his head and neck. But I am not an idiot to not see that he's only doing this for his family.

I don't understand him though. He was not giving enough money for his children's well-being but their pictures are present in the cab. He's a cheating husband but his wife's picture is also present.

I groaned. Ordinary people are complicated human beings.

We took a left turn and I knew my deduction was right when he stopped at the abandoned shop that I so excitedly anticipated. Is my sarcasm eminent?

Two men wearing black suits went straight to my side. One opened the car door and the other handed an envelope to the cabbie. I eyed the envelope and shut my eyes closed when I realised that it was a bomb.

Of course he'd have to die! How did that idea managed to slip my mind?!

Sherlock! Save him! I heard John's voice echoed around my head.

I sighed. Usually, when I know that a person deserves to die, I let them.

But…

"God! What did you do to me, John?" I whispered which made the other three to glance at me.

I sighed and went out from the cab and grabbed the envelope through the cabbie's window which earned a disproving shout from the man.

I glared at him, "Next time you do jobs like this, make sure you don't die! Or more importantly, make sure I'm not there!"

"What?! That's my money, you bastard!" He roared.

I rolled my eyes and threw the envelope as far away as possible. Before the cabbie could retort again, his 'money' exploded creating torn pieces of paper flying around the place.

"What the bloody hell was that?!"

"It was supposed to be your death," I sarcastically smiled at him. But that smile suddenly faded when I heard a loud bang from behind me.

Streaks of blood from the cabbie gushed out from his head.

I was still stuck from the sudden incident when I heard an unpleasant call from the man behind me.

"I apologise for the sudden turn of events, Mr Holmes. A used trash has to be disposed, don't you agree?"

I turned and saw Sebastian Moran smirking with a gun on his right hand.

"In his case, I don't. But yours?" I returned a smirk and straightened my coat, "I completely agree for I shall be disposing you off soon."

"Oh? I look forward to that, Mr Holmes. But for now, do come and join us," he nodded to his attendants beside and I was forced to follow him inside.

"Sit down, Mr Holmes. Because you will need it later after our little 'chat'," he gestured at the chair across a telly and a player.

I sat down and waited for him to talk. He took the seat beside the telly and crossed his legs.

"That was very noble of you back there, Mr Holmes…" He eyed me mockingly, "Saving the very man who brought you here."

"I didn't do it to save him. I simply needed something that could help Mycroft to –"

"To find you?" He cut me off and chuckled, "Oh Mr Holmes, your brother won't be able to find you in exactly forty-one minutes and forty-two seconds. And also, it's Guy Fawkes Night. No one would bother if there were 'explosions' now wouldn't there? But I find your trust to your brother quite endearing though Mr Holmes. If Moriarty would have described it, the word would be 'cute', wouldn't it?"

I rolled my eyes, "What would Moriarty say then if I tell you that you're boring me?"

He gestured for me to wait and took out a piece of paper from the pocket of his suit. He unfolded it, searched for something and nodded to himself.

He looked at me and flashed a lop-sided smile, "He would say: Don't worry Sherlock. Everything will be exciting soon."

"Hm, pity. It looks like you're still following the orders of the dead…" I stopped when I noticed that he looked rather guilty.

"Oh…" I scanned the room. The telly. The player. Him sitting down. His guards around us. And me, still alive.

This was not how Sebastian Moran would be doing. I would have been dead by now. He doesn't work like this!

If it was according to his plan, he could have killed me the moment he knew that I was alive!

And slowly, everything went into place.

"You're not doing this for yourself, Sebastian Moran. You're doing this in behalf of your—"

"Boss?"

I smirked, "Master."

Anger clearly flashed his eyes and I knew that I was right, like I always was.

"No matter how you call it Mr Holmes, I am only following his final orders to finally pay my debt towards him," he explained like a proper gentleman.

"Oh please! He's dead. If you were not able to kill me, he wouldn't know!"

"I really do apologise Mr Holmes. But I am merely a man of my words."

I glared at him as he continued, "Before he died, he counted all the possible outcomes. Counted and countered. He countered all the possibilities with plans. Plans that I am to put in action if he dies. He was more than the psychopath you know him to be, Mr Holmes. He's like –"

"A story teller…" I grimaced and remembered all the 'riddles' and the 'stories' that he gave me two years ago.

"Yes. A story teller. And he is about to tell you the final story that he personally wrote for you," he then pressed a button in the player and the telly started to play a video. A video that immediately showed the foul man that caused all these trouble even though he's already six feet under the ground.

He waved while grinning from ear to ear, "Hi Sherlock! I'm sorry I'm not there right now. You see, I'm already in hell and I am waiting for you to join me here! It's really boring here you know and it would be really great if you're here with me! It would be so exciting!"

He laughed.

"Did you meet Sebastian yet? Oh of course you did, he's with you right now…" He trailed off while nodding with a disgusting smirk.

"Oh and don't worry. He won't hurt you just yet… We still have a surprise for you!" He smiled wickedly like he always did when he's excited. I glared at him even though he won't see it.

"And how's John, by the way? Are you two married already? Oh I bet you are! Hm…" He stopped then suddenly laughed, "Of course you're not! He's already married by now… And to a lady! John never really liked men, didn't he Sherlock? Or did he? Because as far as I know, he liked you! HE LOVED YOU! But you were so busy solving your exciting cases that you weren't able to notice. Poor, John… You were just so cruel not to notice, Sherlock. So cruel... But we'll talk about that later!" He acted to be shuffling from his seat and sat down properly.

"So, listen well, Sherlock. You wouldn't like to miss your own story would you?" He stayed silent as if waiting for a response.

I grunted and glared.

"Of course you wouldn't! Because I know you're really curious, right now," he laughed again then continued, "Once upon a time, there lived a very arrogant king and his royal adviser. The king's subordinates never really did like him because he was so mean to them! But because of his royal adviser, his subordinates tried their best to understand him and stayed. So you see, if it wasn't for the royal adviser the king wouldn't be a king. Because you're not really a king if you don't have your servants, aren't you? And so, the king was able to rule his kingdom without any complaint from his people by the help of his royal adviser. Together they were formidable. But one day, the king received a death threat for him and his royal adviser. To save his royal adviser that he loved secretly, he had to chase him away. So he chased his royal adviser away. His royal adviser was very angry, but because he loved the king he went away without a word."

From being horribly cheerful, his voice changed into one that was filled with anger and wrath, "Then, the arrogant king was kidnapped and tortured by the evil wizard who gave him the threat! When his royal adviser knew about this, he immediately went to rescue the king. But he didn't know that there was a trap! He was also kidnapped and tortured! They were both tortured to DEATH! They died without any of them knowing how they truly feel for each other!"

There was an uncomfortable pause. His face was full of anger for 23 seconds until he suddenly smiled happily and whispered, "The end."

"Did you like the story, Sherlock?" He grinned from ear to ear. How I wish I had his corpse right in front of me so I could stab it again and again!

"I know you did," he started nodding like the psychopath he was and continued, "But don't worry, there's more. We have a lot more surprises for you and Sebastian will take care of it. And I'm sorry if he kills people during the surprise," he looked down like he was apologizing, "He loves killing you know… It's in his nature," he whispered the last part then laughed.

"Meanwhile! Let's portray the part where the arrogant king gets tortured! I know you know what will happen next because you were very attentive while listening to the story," he smirked and glared mockingly, "Goodbye!"

I was still staring at the telly even though the video had stopped.

Moriarty, you died already. And if you were alive; I'd kill you over and over again.

I was trying to even my breathing when I received a blow to my face. Immediately, my hands were tied behind my back and my feet followed.

"Ah… Master says torture Sherlock Holmes, and slave says yes," I said mockingly and spit out the blood to Moran who was standing in front of me.

As his rage reached its end, Moran continued punching me like I'm some kind of a punching bag.

I tried my very best to keep all my grunts and groans to myself. I didn't care if blood was flowing from my mouth and the cuts and bruises that Moran had made.

'When his royal adviser knew about this, he immediately went to rescue the king. But he didn't know that there was a trap! He was also kidnapped and tortured!', these words were the only ones that are important.

If John knew about this, I know he'll try to save me. Out of duty or out of love, I didn't know. All I had to do was to not let him know.

As I received another blow in my stomach, I spluttered fresh blood.

Damn it! I'd get Mycroft for this. He's taking a lot of time!

Sebastian Moran's guards were now the ones beating me because he was busy on something. I managed to glance at him and found out that he's talking to someone on the phone.

"Yes, Dr Watson. I'm Sebastian Moran and I have Sherlock Holmes with me."

John!

I kept suppressing my grunts as one of the guards kicked me.

"Do you want to talk to him then, Dr Watson?" He paused and slowly smirked, "It is my outmost pleasure."

He walked towards me and gave me another punch before grabbing my hair up so I was looking at him, "Talk, Mr Holmes."

"Sherlock?" I heard John's frantic voice from the other line. God, how I missed his voice! I wanted to answer him, but I know I shouldn't.

I kept my mouth shut and suppressed the grunts that were attempting to leave as another guard punched my face.

"Talk!" Moran shouted when I didn't imply on doing so.

"Sherlock?" John's voice seemed to be more worried this time. I wanted to tell him that I'm fine, but I know I shouldn't.

I heard Moran heaved out a very deep sigh. He ordered one of his guards to hold the phone for him. He walked towards the wall that was quite far from me and took out a gun.

"I guess you already know my area of expertise, Mr Holmes. I am very good with rifles. I could shoot you right now and kill you, but Moriarty wouldn't like that, would he?" I heard a click from his gun and I glared.

"Sherlock? Just talk! Everything will be fine. I'll be there. Just please let me know you're there!" John's voice was like soft whispers that drifts me away from this madness. I wanted to tell him that I'm only doing this to save him, but I know I shouldn't.

"Talk!" Another shout from Moran echoed through the room, but I was determined not to. For John.

"Sherlock? Please… Just please…" John's voice suddenly croaked. I shut my eyes tight as realization struck me. I made my doctor cry. I wanted to tell him to not cry, that everything will be okay, but I know I shouldn't –

I stopped from my trance when I heard a loud bang and immense pain suddenly enveloped my left arm.

"Gaaaah!" I shouted but tried to stop myself when I heard John yelled from the other end of the line.

"Sherlock?!"

"J-john…" I gulped of what seemed like blood and closed my eyes. I can't take it anymore, I badly wanted to talk to my doctor, my blogger and stop him from crying.

"I-I'll… I'm fine John… I—"

I was cut off when Moran suddenly took the phone and smirked, "See, Mr Holmes? It is not that difficult to talk now, is it?"

'When his royal adviser knew about this, he immediately went to rescue the king. But he didn't know that there was a trap! He was also kidnapped and tortured!'

My eyes went wide when realization poured on me like cold water. I woke up into reality and I felt single tear ran down my cheek.

Now that John knows that I'm in Moran's hands, he would try to rescue me. 'When his royal adviser knew about this, he immediately went to rescue the king.'

He would be trapped. 'But he didn't know that there was a trap!'

He would be kidnapped. 'He was also kidnapped.'

He would be… tortured, like what happened to me. 'And tortured!'

Images of John being tortured to death started swarming my mind and I was in panic. I tried calming myself but failed as Moran stood in front of me and took out the piece of paper he had again.

"I'm not really fond with this 'scripts', Mr Holmes. But, I needed to follow them nonetheless," he unfolded the paper and searched. When he finally found what he was looking for, he looked at me, "Right… And I am supposed to say…" He trailed off and grinned, "It's time to play, Sherlock Holmes."

Then everything went black.

A/N: Hello! So sorry for not being able to update for three days. School's taking its toll on me and I am absolutely starting to hate it. But anyway, I hope you take this chapter as an apology. And enjoy it as well. If there are any mistakes, please don't hesitate to put it in your reviews. As usual, I will read, accept and learn from all of them. :)

Thank you for the views, reviews, follows and hopefully favourites. ;)

Cheerio!


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

John's POV

"I-I'll… I'm fine John… I—"

As Sherlock finally talked, tears were streaming down my face – but this time, I didn't try stopping them. Since he chased me away, I had always wanted to talk to him. But I never dreamt that it would be in this very terrible situation: Him kidnapped.

"Sherlock?!" I almost screamed when his voice was gone from the other line.

"Do you need further verification, Dr Watson?" I heard the voice of Sebastian Moran and instantly I felt the urge to throw my phone away out of anger.

"N-no, God, no! If further 'verifying' is for Sherlock to be tortured again, then no. Now tell me, where are you?!"

After telling me what to do, he ended the call and I was left standing just far outside the backyard of the Holmes's.

It was almost dinner when an anonymous caller id flashed my phone. When I answered it, Sebastian Moran immediately claimed that he had Sherlock with him.

I didn't believe him because Mycroft should have told us before Moran did. I wanted proof. He then told me to leave the house without making any suspicious movements.

Mary and the elder couple weren't able to notice my worry when I asked if I could 'walk outside' for a while. They agreed because they said it was what I needed after being away from the 'action'.

When I was far from the house and the surveillance – which Moran surprisingly has access to – I started hearing grunts and groans. I also heard loud bangs and slams that I was very sure that caused the grunts.

I knew that it was Sherlock. At first I wanted Moran to stop because I'm already convinced, but I knew that he wouldn't stop until Sherlock talks. So I tried telling him to talk even just for a second. But hearing Sherlock grunt in pain was torture enough for me that I felt hot tears streaming down my face.

The feeling that I felt when I saw him falling from St. Barts was coming back and I didn't like it one bit. I just wanted everything to stop, but to do that he had to talk!

When I heard a loud gun-like bang and Sherlock screaming in pain followed, I felt my chest tightened. I absolutely thought that if he talked, everything will be alright. But I was wrong. I was very wrong because the pain that I'd felt when Sherlock was still grunting was nothing when he screamed in pain and agony.

I was still crying when my phone rang. I looked at it – preparing myself if it was from Moran – but when I saw it was Mary's, I heaved out a very long sigh, wiped my tears and answered.

"Mary?" I tried my best not to sound like someone who was just crying. She would be giving birth soon and I didn't want to give her more worries. Worrying about Sherlock is enough. And besides, if I'm going to rescue Sherlock, I should not be like this. I shouldn't be panicking. I should focus in saving him.

"John," I may not see her right now, but I know that she's smiling which eventually made me smile too.

"Yeah?"

"Mrs Holmes is calling for you. It's time for dinner," she said and I could hear Mrs Holmes's voice in the background.

"Hm, okay. I'll be right there," I looked around and when I was sure that my face is not showing any signs that I cried, I started walking back to the house.

"Good. She's very excited for the meal tonight, do you know that?"

"Oh, really? Why? What's for dinner anyway?" Mary's cheerfulness always made me smile. And now, at least I could smile even though something very painful had just happened.

"I don't know," she giggled and whispered, "She said it's a surprise!"

I opened the gate and heard it creak. I think Mary had heard it too because she was the one who opened the door.

She was smiling at me while waving her phone. I waved back and ended the call.

When I was finally standing in front of her, she hugged and kissed me – which I gladly obliged in returning.

I inhaled her scent and tried relaxing. Clair de la Lune, she still hadn't changed it until now I say.

"Let's go?" She asked.

"Yeah," I nodded and we both went inside hand in hand.

"John! You're here," Mrs Holmes immediately greeted as we sat down on our chairs. I smiled at her and looked at them. They didn't know a single thing that Sherlock was kidnapped and is now under the hands of the very man who wanted to kill him.

I badly wanted to tell them. Tell Mycroft. Tell Lestrade. But I can't. I shouldn't. As we bowed and said our prayers, I glanced at my phone and looked at the address Moran had sent me.

I shut my eyes close and remembered his last words, "Tell anyone you want Dr Watson, and I assure you that they won't be able to live another day… You know well what I am capable of Watson, for I was once your commanding officer."

Yes… When he was still a major, ex-Colonel Sebastian Moran was once my commanding officer and my good friend. And I bloody know what he was capable of, alright. I was only able to recall that when I read his files. I wanted to tell Sherlock that I knew him and maybe I could help in a way – because I knew how he works, well some of it – but sadly it was 'that' day.

I was able to tell Mycroft though but he wasn't getting in touch with us for a while now and it's making everyone here worried, especially the elder couple.

Mary and I talked about Sherlock and Mycroft being so distant from their parents and we didn't know if they're doing that to keep them safe or they're simply doing that because their parents shows 'sentiment' that both of them are very wary of. Are they even worried about their parents worrying about them?

I sighed. Me and Mary were now on the bed. She was already sleeping and I was waiting for the right time to leave. I only have about two hours left to get to the destination that Moran had sent me.

I'm still curious though as to why Mycroft did not inform us that Sherlock was kidnapped.

But the real question was, did he even know that Sherlock was kidnapped? Hours had passed already, why wouldn't he know? But there was still that possibility that he already knows but he just decided not to tell us, thinking that it was for the better. But I bloody hell want to know what was happening!

The ticking clock was the mere indication that this was not a dream and I was living in this confusing and painful reality.

I sighed. I had already planned out my escape and all I had to do was wait.

As the clock showed 10:30, I slowly pulled myself out of Mary's embrace and kissed her forehead. I know that she would understand what I'm about to do when she realizes it, and so I went out from our room and slowly walked towards the back entrance of the house. The elder Holmes's bedroom was upstairs and I am certain that they're already asleep.

I managed to avoid all the surveillance inside the house. Fortunately, I was able to do the same with the surveillance outside the house. I was not part of the army for nothing. Still, I should think about exercising regularly though. I was almost caught by the surveillance once… Or maybe twice? Or was it six times?

Sherlock, you better be bloody okay when I get there. Because if not? I swear I'd turn back to John Watson, the war soldier from Afghanistan who killed people!

'You were a doctor, John,' I heard Sherlock's voice echo in my mind. I could even picture him smiling.

"Shut up, Sherlock. I'm trying to save you," I whispered to myself.

I was now fairly away from the house and the surveillance seemed to be decreasing in numbers. I was nearing the main road when I suddenly heard a gun click from behind me.

"Where are you going, John?"

A/N: Okay! Yes, I know this is a pretty short chapter but I'm going somewhere tomorrow and the car ride is quite long and I think I wouldn't be able to post any. I've got some kind of a business over there and it'll be quite tiring. And I am guessing that I'll be posting another on Monday. Well, hopefully. But I will try my outmost best in doing so. I am so sorry if this chapter does not exceed your expectations. I promise that I will try to do so in the next one.

As usual, if you ever find mistakes in this one – which I do apologize, I was stressed with packing while writing this one – please don't hesitate adding them in your reviews. I will read and accept them, like a good sport!

Lastly, your reviews are always my source of inspiration when I write another chapter. So, if any of you has opinions/comments, please don't be reluctant in sharing it.

That would be all for now.

Thank you for the views, reviews, follows and favorites!

Cheerio!


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

A/N: Heads-up! This chapter will be mostly in Lestrade and Mycroft's POVs. But! Don't worry; this is still certainly a JohnLock story. I just really needed some sort of space for Sherlock and John. Haha. I hope you understand and you will like this chapter. :)

John's POV

"Where are you going, John?"

I raised both my arms and slowly turned around.

I looked at the man in the front of me and sighed, "Just somewhere, Mr Holmes."

He wasn't lowering his gun so I didn't dare lower my arms.

"And where is this 'somewhere', if I may ask?"

I closed my eyes to steady my mind and opened them, looking straight into the older man's eyes.

"To… Sherlock. I'm going to Sherlock," I told him as he continued pointing his gun at me.

"Why? Did he tell you to do so? Or did Mycroft?"

"Um…" I was very hesitant on what to tell him. Because if I tell him anything relating to what I'm doing, his life would be in danger.

He raised his right eyebrow and gestured for me to go on.

"I…" I shut my eyes close and breathe in deeply, "I can't tell you, Mr Holmes."

"Why?"

"It's… It's complicated. Very complicated," I looked at his gun and he started lowering it and so I did with my arms.

Mycroft and Sherlock stated it quite clear on how their father was 'rather the best' MI6 agent in his days. I maybe from the army but it is quite clear to me that the man in front of me was much more skilled than I was. And I was not taking my chances.

But I know that he could be persuaded, not by force but by words. Mrs Holmes does that all the time. I guess that's how she runs her family.

"You do realise that we are both in grave danger because we're out here, well, including my wife of course. She doesn't really like it when I'm not beside her when she wakes up…" He trailed off with a smile.

I smiled at it too. Love is very clear in both of them and I guess this was one reason why both their sons don't like staying with them.

I could even picture Sherlock saying, "This place reeks sentiment."

And Mycroft would agree and say, "I shall now take my leave."

Really, where are their genes from?

I snapped out of my trance when Mr Holmes continued, "With the look of determination in your face, I could see that not telling me has very important reasons. Reasons that may include my life, correct?"

I nodded slowly. Mary told me he's the sane one in the family, or is he?

I saw him sigh and hid his gun, "Mycroft will not take this lightly but, I'll take my chances," he warmly smiled and nodded, "Carry on, John. I'll tell Mycroft about this. I know he'll find you soon enough."

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. I owe you a favour," I stood up like a soldier as a sign of my respect but he merely shook his head.

"No-no. You're going to Sherlock, yes?"

"Yeah."

"You'll be able to pay me back if you'll take care of my boy," he smiled.

I grinned at him and nodded – somehow, that statement brought another feeling inside my chest - , "I will Mr Holmes. I will."

"Alright, John! I was just taking a stroll back home," he winked and started walking back to his humble home.

I walked the separate way, smiling at how lucky Sherlock and Mycroft was to have a father like him.

I was now waiting for a cab when a sleek black car stopped in front of me. I sighed in relief thinking it was Mycroft's assistant again.

But when two men wearing black suits went out from the car and stood both my sides, I knew something was wrong.

The window by the passenger seat slowly slid down and Sebastian Moran was looking at me straight in the eye.

"Hello, Watson. It has been awhile, has it not?" He flashed a lop-sided smile.

"I-it has. Yes," I tried answering with a straight face and fortunately, I was able to.

"But we both know I am not here for old time's sake, yes?" He smirked.

I closed my eyes and sighed as I felt the feeling that he still gives me when he talks full of authority and order.

My lips formed into a thin line as I nodded.

"Good," and as if on a cue, I felt something painful on my head as something hit it.

I whinged in pain and was barely able to take a blurry glance at Moran who was looking at me intently.

'Sherlock, I…. I'm sorry.' Was all I could think of as I fell and lost consciousness.

Lestrade's POV

"Donovan, did the others reported to you yet?" I held a grip on my phone and on the steering wheel.

"Um, no. Not yet Greg."

I sighed, "Okay. Just keep me updated." I then ended the call.

I was driving around London. I would really love it if it was just for a stroll, but damn it! Sherlock is missing and we can't seem to find him anywhere! Even Mycroft is having a hard time.

Every time I ask him what's taking so long, he would always reply, "My team is doing their best, Gregory."

And that answer was not what I bloody wanted! I want something that states clearly of what was happening for Christ's sake.

I was five cars away from Sherlock's cab when the traffic light suddenly turned red. It was fine because Mycroft gave me their address so I knew where to go.

But when I arrived at the place, Sherlock wasn't there. I was about to get in when Mycroft told me that Sherlock was not inside and was missing.

He told me to help finding him. He also said something about me doing the 'legwork' and him doing the 'sitwork'.

Is that even normal?! I mean, his brother was missing and could possibly being beaten to a pulp and he was just sitting there? Waiting for a report of his brother's whereabouts?

I'm not really saying that that's not helpful but he could be at least wandering around London, looking for his brother while waiting for a report in the process!

I mean…

Bloody hell! Am I even making sense?

Well for 'ordinary' people I am, but for them?

Argh, I could still feel their amused looks while Sherlock was ranting about Sebastian Moran.

I shook the feeling off and focused on looking for Sherlock.

I was looking on both sides of the street that I was passing by and I could see a lot of people enjoying Guy Fawkes's night.

I've heard a lot of explosions and fireworks were painting the sky at the moment. I should be enjoying that right now if it wasn't for this.

I'm not saying that I don't like what I'm doing right now, because I am really worried about Sherlock.

I just really –

My phone rang and I quickly answered as I saw that it was Mycroft.

"Yeah?"

"Turn left and then turn right after two streets. Stop at an old abandoned shop called 'Spick and Span'," he immediately stated.

"Wait? What?"

"Yes. I know it's a rather odd name for a furniture shop. Probably the reason why it ran out of business."

"What? Okay. I'll just…" I was now turning right after passing two streets when I saw the shop he was talking about.

I stopped in front of it and looked around it like the police man I was – which was interrupted by Mycroft from the other line.

"No one's there Gregory. Get inside and get Sherlock," he told me which was probably more like an order.

"If you already know that no one's there, why didn't you tell any of your 'men' to get him?!" I almost shouted when I kicked the door down and pointed my gun at both sides of the area.

I heard him sigh, "Because, Gregory, you were the one who's nearer."

I did the same and went inside the office of the shop.

"Yeah, whatever. If I know, you bloody don't…." I stopped by my tracks and trailed off when I found a man sitting on the chair at the center of the room.

"Sh-sherlock?" I almost whispered.

Sherlock was tied up on a chair, battered, with blood all over his body and even dripping from his left arm.

"Sherlock!" I finally shouted and ran up to him. I tried shaking him but all I got was a groan in response. God, he must be hurting.

"Is he okay, Gregory?" I almost forgot that my phone was still on my hand and I could hear the faint voice of Mycroft asking.

I set it into loud speaker, put it down and started untying Sherlock.

"Oh I don't know! Maybe if 'you' were 'here', you would know!"

"Detective Inspector."

And that was enough to make me save my complaints for later.

"He's not fine. He's completely beaten and would really need some medical attention coz blood is still dripping from his arm."

After I reported, Mycroft was gone from the other line. And after five minutes, I heard the wails of an ambulance which made me sigh in relief.

I was still trying to stop the bleeding when I saw a doctor coming in with nurses and as his assistant.

My brows immediately knit together as I was shoved away and I was left there just staring at them. Are they the 'normal' rescue team?

"Mr Holmes will meet you at the hospital," I almost yelped in surprise when Mycroft's assistant was already beside me. It's good that she's busy with her phone though, she wasn't able to see my reaction.

"Y-yeah. I'll just go there with Sherlock." I converted my gaze towards Sherlock who was now on a stretcher and was being given a first aid.

"No one's going to drive your car," she informed me which made me realise it too.

"Oh. Uh… I'll just have to follow the ambulance then," I told her as I followed Sherlock being carried outside.

When I was sure that Sherlock was safe in the ambulance, I immediately walked towards my car.

I really was about to get in but I remembered something that I wanted to ask Mycroft's assistant. I mean, Mycroft would be able to answer this but I have a feeling that it'll affect his pride. So I decided to ask the assistant.

She was also about to get inside her assigned car when I called her.

She finally looked up from her phone and smiled, "Yes?"

"Why… Why did Mycroft had a hard time finding Sherlock when he has access to all the surveillance in London?" I finally managed to ask.

She was hesitant but smiled after taking a look at her phone, "Let's just say that Mr Holmes is not the only powerful person here in London, Detective Inspector."

She nodded, indicating that that's all she can say and went inside her car, leaving me standing and pondering.

Mycroft's POV

I was now standing in front of the emergency room, waiting for the doctor to report after treating Sherlock.

I was what ordinary people would say 'calm', but I was by no means 'calm' at all. Sherlock was found almost out of consciousness inside an abandoned old shop and I didn't know until Sebastian Moran let me.

It was normal for me to feel angry because he put my brother into this state, but what makes me angrier was that he was undoubtedly showing off his power towards me. It was as if he was telling me that I'm not the only one who has great power over London. And I undoubtedly, completely, utterly and entirely despise every last bit of it!

In almost every move I make, he has something up his sleeve that could contradict it.

I knew that he was a powerful man but I never imagined that it was up to this amount.

If Sherlock knew, he would be enjoying my annoyance and frustration. But I highly doubt that my dear brother would take notice of it until he had solved this case. I am quite sure of that.

A cup of coffee was handed to me by the DI when he arrive saying, "Need a cuppa?"

I flashed him a smile while taking a look – well in most cases, it would be called observing – at the cuppa in front of me.

The DI must have seen it because he immediately took back the cup of coffee with a confused smile.

"S-sorry. You only drink tea, yeah?"

"Yes," I nodded and he looked quite embarrassed. What was I to do then?

So I sighed, "But a cup of coffee once in a while won't hurt, will it?"

He smiled and handed it back to me. I took it from him and raised it a little, as if to say 'cheers' if it was wine.

"So… You okay?" He asked tentatively. At first you would think that he was asking if I was 'okay' after seeing my brother in an undesirable state. But when I took a quick glance at him, I deduced that he knew something about Moran being able to block almost all my ways.

"I am. Why wouldn't I?" I faked a smile.

He sighed and took a sip from his coffee, "Come on Mycroft. I know you don't like it if you can't keep your surveillance on Sherlock. Because bloody hell! You know all his moves and whereabouts. But this..? I know you hate this."

"That was a good deduction, Detective Inspector. May I ask how you did it?"

He shrugged and sat down on one of the waiting seats, "Well, I may not know you that much but I know Sherlock. And he doesn't like it if someone was clever than him. He just really doesn't like it if someone exceeds him or his expectations. For him, everything has to go his own way. And –"

"Seeing that I am Sherlock's brother, you deduced that I think and do the same?" I raised a brow at him which he shrugged off again.

"Yeah. You're brothers and you may not like showing it to the world, but you guys have a lot of similarities."

"How so? What made you possibly conclude that assumption?"

"Oh come on!" He frowned at me, "You both deduce unlike any other in the world. You guys are geniuses. You both hate being with your parents and! You both love being a pirate."

At his last proof, I instantly snapped my gaze towards him – almost pouring the coffee on my rather expensive suit.

I was frowning and glaring at the same time and said, "Has… Has John been telling you all those?"

He nodded guiltily and explained, "When he was in therapy, he told me some of your visits at their flats 2 years ago and he said that he sometimes, more like always gets in between you two and Sherlock when you go on with your 'mocking fights'."

I stared at him for about a minute and nodded. I then continued sipping the coffee that I rather found quite tasty.

I shall tell Anthea to change my tea into… Oh right. I'm on a diet.

I don't know why, but instead of thinking about Sebastian Moran I ended up just savouring the cuppa and the silence between me and the DI.

It's quite… relaxing? Does that word exist? Well for a person like me who has an important role in the government, it doesn't.

I was still wondering when the doctor went out from the room that we were waiting for and went straight to me.

I merely looked at him, waiting for a report which he immediately obliged.

"The wound in his left arm was from a gunshot. If he wasn't treated earlier, he could have suffered from severe blood loss. But he is now fine. There are some bruises on his face and stomach. We have treated that too and the patient will be awake in about two hours," he smiled and walked away.

I heard the DI sigh in relief while on the other hand; I loosened my grip on my brolly.

At least, Sherlock was now fine. I can finally focus on how to let Sebastian Moran know that I am and will always be the more powerful than him.

"Take good care of Sherlock when he wakes up, Gregory. I still have a lot of things to take care of," I smiled at him and started walking away.

"Wait!" He called which made me stop and turn.

"Yes?"

"Won't you even wait for him to wake up?" He asked, quite confused and amused at the same time.

"Judging by your confused look, I deduce that you are wondering why I was here when he was being treated and leaves when he's still not awake. And I further deduce that you are amused by my words which should be like; 'Go home now, Gregory. I shall take care of Sherlock'," I tried acting the said scenario I knew he had in mind and continued, "Am I right, Detective Inspector?"

For a moment, he looked quite taken-aback. But realizing that that's what he should be expecting, he simply nodded.

I laughed meekly, "Funny thing, sentiment. Both Sherlock and I knew that we have that particular 'feeling' for each other but never really intended for it to show. Hidden actions and hidden words, that's how sentiment works for us. Have a good night, Gregory," I bid farewell and continued walking away.

He was left there astonished, I was walking away entertained.

A/N: First of all, I am so sorry for the delay. I've finally relocated and I was still trying to cope up with my surroundings It was rather odd until I've found new friends. Now that I've somehow 'blend in', I'll be able to update. But I still cannot promise you all that I'll update every single day like what I did last month. I could only update twice a week with about 2,000 works per chapter. :) I am still a student and I do have a rather fair amount of number of subjects to be studied every day.

So much for that, thank you for the views, reviews, follows, and favourite that this story received. And though I won't be able to update much, I'm still hoping that you will still continue reading this story.

That would be all for now lads and lassies!

Thank you!

Cheerio!


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Sherlock's POV

I woke up while hearing faint beeps and feeling something attached to me. I slowly opened my eyes and winced in pain as the lighting of the room was too much for my eyes.

I looked around the room like the observer I was and rolled my eyes at the sight of a hospital room. I am not really a fan of this but I knew it was what I needed.

'It's time to play, Sherlock Holmes.'

I shut my eyes tightly as those last words rang around my ear. His sordid smirk still plastered in my mind.

Memories of what had happened to me started running around and I only thought of one name after: John.

As I heard the door clicked open, I immediately knew who it was and so I asked, "Lestrade, where's John?"

He almost jumped in surprise and snapped his gaze at me, "Sherlock! Y-you're awake," he sighed in relief and walked towards my bed.

I rolled my eyes at him, "Yes Lestrade. I'm awake. It is clearly and very obvious," I looked at him tediously and continued, "Now. Where. Is. John?"

"John? I think he's at your parents' house with Mary. Mycroft told us that didn't he?"

"Yes. But that was hours ago and anything could happen. Now if you don't know the answer yet, call Mycroft and ask him," I glared at him while he was pursing his lips, "Now!"

He raised his hands in defeat and took out his phone, "Okay-okay. No need to be so cranky at it."

He speed dialled Mycroft and I mocking looked at him, "Speed dial number 1?"

A faint blush crept on his face and I continued mocking him, "Really, Lestrade?"

"Shut up, Sherlock!" He looked at me from head to toe and continued, "Are you actually already okay in that state?"

I raised one brow at him, "Oh please. This is simply physical wounds Lestrade. And the deepest wound I have is in my arm, too far from risk unlike last time."

He looked at me for a moment and stopped when Mycroft finally picked up his phone.

"Mycroft! I'm sorry for disturbing you… Y-yeah… Sherlock wanted to know where John was… I told him that already, but he wouldn't – … Oh… Yeah, okay… Bye," he ended the call.

"He'll call you after he gets a report."

I nodded at him and adjusted my bed so I'd be comfortable. Well I do admit that my wounds do hurt quite a bit, but I always deal with it.

"So, anything you need?" Lestrade beamed in front of me while grinning wildly.

"Mm," I flashed him another mocking look and smiled, "It's funny how the alteration of your mood depended on my brother Lestrade. How very stimulating…"

"Wha—"

"Stop retaliating yourself with your own thoughts, Detective Inspector," I cut him off and sighed, "And what I want is peace and quite right now. Now go. I need to think, and you thinking about my brother are not helping."

He sighed and turned towards the door, "Yeah. Whatever you say, Mr Know-it-all!"

When I heard the door slightly slammed closed, I breathed in deeply and sighed quite long as fragments of what happened with John started swarming my once calm mind.

"Sherlock?" I heard John's frantic voice from the other line.

"Sherlock?" John's voice seemed to be more worried this time.

"Sherlock? Just talk! Everything will be fine. I'll be there. Just please let me know you're there!" John's voice was like soft whispers that drifts me away from this madness.

"Sherlock?!"

"J-john…" I gulped of what seemed like blood and closed my eyes. I can't take it anymore, I badly wanted to talk to my doctor, my blogger and stop him from crying.

"I-I'll… I'm fine John… I—"

I sighed and looked for my phone, attempting to call John. But I groaned when I realized that Mycroft had his 'special' team to program my phone. It was disabled from being able to get in touch with anyone from the particular area.

If you'd ask me, it's quite foolish. But Mycroft, unfortunately, had the upper-hand that time and I, regrettably, had no other choice.

The story had also been circling my mind. The thought of John not trying to save me had crossed and I almost believed it.

John was technically mad at me and he would try to avoid every potential connection he'd be able to attain with me.

But his words and reactions were making things greatly difficult to decide.

There are two possibilities though. One is that John tries to save me out of duty because he 'is' still my bestfriend – well, that depends upon John though. Two is that he tries to save me put of love – which is pragmatically not possible!

John is obviously in love with Mary and… he wouldn't really think about…

I grunted at myself. What am I thinking?! I should be using my precious time finding a way to stop Moran. That vile, appalling and dreadful bastard.

And besides, John wouldn't really try to save me, would he?

He would know that it's a trap and he would try to tell Mycroft.

Of course there was also the possibility that Moran would tell him that John was not to tell anyone or consequences that may include death or pain shall be brought to the person he tells.

I sighed with that realization. That possibility is 78% and the remaining 22% is John not caring if I was in the hands of the man who threatened to kill me and his family.

But John had very much stated that he wanted to help me with the case so that 22% might be disregarded. A part of me is happy that he will try to save me because that would mean that he still 'cares'. But a bigger part of me is deliberately petrified because of the terrible outcomes that are likely to happen.

Even so, whatever happens, I will save John and will live up to his expectations. I care for John and I…

'Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock,' I heard Mycroft's voice and I glared at the wall in front of me.

'I know that, Mycroft. And caring will not really help and I should continue not doing that mistake. But it's John for God's sake! John, my blogger, my doctor and the—'

I was cut off from imagining things when Lestrade suddenly burst the door open.

I frowned at him, annoyed from his sudden disruption.

I wanted to reproach the baffled Detective Inspector but…

"Sherlock!" He looked at me with eminent worry in his eyes.

My brows knitted together, things a little bit unclear and yet hinting of what was happening.

"John is…" He trailed off. Even if he finishes his statement, it wouldn't matter for I already know what he was about to say and all I could do was slump back on the hospital bed, shattering.

I heard him heaved in a very deep sigh as he continued, "John is missing."

I closed my eyes and gestured my hands towards the door, telling him to leave.

He may haven't noticed it because he started walking towards me with a worried me, "Sherlock, what—"

I cut him off with my palms facing him, telling clearly to stop. He did.

"Leave."

"What?"

"I said leave!"

He sighed, nodded and went out.

'When his royal adviser knew about this, he immediately went to rescue the king. But he didn't know that there was a trap! He was also kidnapped and tortured! They were both tortured to DEATH! They died without any of them knowing how they truly feel for each other!'

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout all the words that were running around my head as I was proven right. For the very first time, I did not want to be right. I wanted John to be in that 22% but I was sure that he would be in the 78%.

"I should have been wrong… I…" I gripped my hair as tears started streaming down my face without warning.

I let myself fall once again. But right now, for once, I don't care if someone sees me in this unlikely state.

I just wanted to simply shatter into pieces knowing that my doctor, my blogger and my… dear Watson was now in possession of a man who would not hesitate to kill and would not disobey his master in any way possible.

I could feel my hands getting wetter by the minute as I kept wiping my visible tears. I grunted as I gripped my hair again knowing that my tears won't stop any minute now. I needed to release this feeling to stop. I need to—

"Sherlock?" Mycroft's voice suddenly echoed around the room as I heard the door clicked locked after.

I instantly looked up only to see him worried and shoulders disappointedly down.

I shut my eyes closed and formed my hands into a tightly gripped fist. After taking all things attached to me away, I ran up to Mycroft and did one thing that could release this 'feelings' of worry, anxiety, melancholy, angst and most importantly… anger.

I punched his face, releasing all the unlikely 'feelings' along the way. I stood up briefly and tried to even my breathing.

Mycroft was now slumped down on the floor, leaning at the door. After wiping the blood that came off from his bruised lips, he tried standing up straight and looking me in the eyes.

"Feeling better now, brother dear?"

I glared at him while clutching-unclutching my fists.

"You never really liked talking if you cry. That's why I always get a bit 'battered' every time you shed tears," he sighed and brushed off imaginary dirt from his shoulders.

I continued glaring, but now at the floor.

He smiled encouragingly and sat on the couch in front of my bed, "Now, attach those things back on you because you will need all the energy that you could possibly get. Bad body health is not good for the mind, brother mine."

I went to back on my bed and started trying to attach all those that I took off.

I looked at him callously and asked the question that I desperately wanted my 'powerful' of a brother to answer, "How did John get out of the 'highly guarded' house, Mycroft?"

He sighed and leaned on his seat, "It was about ten o'clock in the evening. Everyone seemed to be asleep except John I presume. If he went out from the front door, he would be easily seen. So obviously, the back door. He managed to avoid all the cameras and went straight towards the highway. But stopped at a dark alleyway, there were no cameras there unfortunately so we did not see what stopped him. Several minutes later, he was now on the highway. A sleek bar car identical to min stopped in front of him. Two fairly built men wearing black suits went out from the car. There was some kind of a conversation until he went out of consciousness by a blow on his head."

Silence remained after. I was clutching-unclutching my fist yet again, angry. Angry at the man in front of me.

"You let it happen…" It wasn't a question but a definite statement.

I heard him sigh, "I never—"

"You let John be in the hands of the ruthless man who had tried to kill me and his family!"

"Sherlock—"

"How cold could you be, Mycroft?!"

"I was—"

"Shut up, Mycroft!"

He suddenly stood up and slammed his brolly on the edge of the bed, "I was powerless!"

I snapped my gaze at him, asking if it was my brother who's in front of me. Mycroft would never admit his defeat. Mycroft would never say he was 'powerless'. It's a taboo word for him!

He tried to even his breathing and continued, "I was only able to know when Moran let me to," he shut his eyes closed like a defeated man, "Besides MI6, I was the only one who had access to all the surveillance in London. 'Was'. It turned out that he had too. He sent a spy to gain access, a hacker. I was definite that a spy couldn't get inside my domain without me knowing. Therefore, the spy was sent to the MI6. He gained access 3 years ago and had been improving it until now. Hacking is not a good job Sherlock, so of course he had the advantage of hiring the best hackers in the world. Through his order, users who have access could be blocked and given way if desired. Moran blocked my access from ten o'clock in the evening last night and let me after midnight. And—"

"Do you where John is?" I cut him off to the chase.

He sighed again, defeated, "Yes…"

"Where?"

"Sherlock, you know well that it is a trap."

"I don't care, Mycroft. John could possibly be hurting right now and for once I hate it when I'm right. I know well that it is a trap but I can calculate all the possible ways of exits when I get there or if you give me an overview about the place," I sat up from the bed and started detaching the tubes that were connected to me, "Now if you'll excuse me Mycroft, I still have to—"

"Do you want to save John Watson, Sherlock?" He looked at me straight in the eyes, the feeling of defeat was gone and the aura of domination prevailed.

"Of course—"

"Then stop caring."

I frowned at him and remembered the statement that he implanted on my mind when we were still children.

'Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.'

"Stop thinking from your heart but from your mind. Caring only tends to make grave mistakes that could lead into terrible outcomes. If you want to solve this case and save John, stop caring about him. You may not notice it but you have been quite a failure since you knew that John's life would be in danger. And that is not acceptable in this case. Just like 2 years ago, we will devise plans to counter all the possibilities," he glared at my sitting position and ordered, "Lay back down. Anthea is on the way with the files that we need. For now, you simply need to rest and wait."

Everything he said was like a slap in the face. I realized everything that I did for the past days that this case had started and Mycroft was right.

I sighed in defeat for the first time in years in front of him. I laid back down and waited.

I will stop caring and start thinking. That was how things should be, that was how I would save John Watson.

A/N: Good morning. Thank you for the long wait. I do wish that you'd like this chapter. Please help me correct my mistakes by putting it in your reviews.

Thank you for the visible support by the way to ValkyrieDefender and IceKiss. I absolutely love your reviews every chapter. They are one of my inspirations.

I also forgot to acknowledge the first person who favourite my first ever story and that is xxxwallflowerxxx.

Thank you for the continuing views, reviews and follows and hopefully more favourites. :D And do bear with me if I couldn't update earlier.

Cheerio!


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

John's POV

I felt some sort of pressure around my head when I woke up. I tried opening my eyes but all I could see was darkness.

I blinked several times but stopped after realizing that I was blindfolded.

I was sitting with my hands tied behind my back and my feet tied around the chairs'.

As a soldier, I was trained how to escape such circumstances but after a number of tries I gave up.

I was still squirming to be released when I heard a door click open and a familiar voice followed after.

"Stop wasting such preposterous and senseless efforts to be able to be free from there, Dr Watson. I assure you, that is one of the hardest ties to get out from. Just like the 'tie' that you have been 'tied' to. Your connection with the infamous Sherlock Holmes is a rather troublesome 'tie', yes?"

I wanted to snort with the number of times he said 'tie', but I knew well that it was inappropriate in this situation.

He was once my friend after all and even now, I still feel that friendly atmosphere around him. But of course, that was 'was'.

I snarled and replied, thankful that he did not put anything around my mouth that could prevent me from talking.

"Where are we, Moran?"

He chuckled and I heard a faint slump on a couch, so I knew we were in some place that is most definitely not a petty old warehouse.

"If I tell you, that would be such a grave and daft mistake, wouldn't it?"

I stayed silent, knowing that it was the right thing to do in his place.

"You have changed, Watson…" He trailed off and continued when he was aware that I am in no mood to answer, "Before, you would always have a hunch whether a certain situation is a trap or not. But now…," he sighed.

"How disappointing. How very disappointing."

If I could just glare at him right now, I would. But for God's sake! Why won't he just take the blindfold off?! It's bloody irritating!

"I knew that it was a trap, Moran. I'm not an idiot to not see it!" I indicated firmly.

"Oh? Then I presume that you have come here expecting all of this to happen, am I correct? Or am I also correct if I tell you that I know that you are merely bluffing?" I could feel his smirk towards me.

I shook my head, "Nope. I knew that this was a trap and I have plans."

"Plans, you say? Well, I better look forward to that then, shall I? But mind you, Watson, if it involves Mycroft Holmes then your plan must be something that you call 'pending'. Because I tell you, for now he is…. 'paralyzed'."

My head immediately snapped up to wherever I concluded his voice was and asked, "What did you do to Mycroft?!"

He laughed, "Nothing 'physical' I assure you. But something that involves power."

I frowned. What? Power?

"You see Watson, Mycroft Holmes is not the only one who is powerful over London. The underworld has its privileges that prove that, I tell you."

I felt my frown turn into something much more, something that hints amusement and interest.

"Yet sadly, that information couldn't be hidden anymore judging by the current circumstances, yes?" He paused, waiting for a reply that I was not obliging on giving.

"But do not worry, dear Watson my good man! Your plan may have been 'cancelled', but I know well that Mr Sherlock Holmes has something in his mind at the very least. There's a line in my script somewhere that I was supposed to say now… Hm…" He paused and I heard a faint crumbling of papers until he cleared his throat.

"And it goes… 'All you need to do is to wait, Johnny boy. Sherlock will be with you soon enough. For the mean time let's play a part of a wonderful story that my boss had personally wrote for you. And that part is… Being tortured until you beg for death.'" His tone was that of a person who tried to say every word from a paper that he most definitely is not thankful off, for short, he talked dully and tediously. He sighed as I heard another crumbling of paper.

"I never really liked this 'scripts'. It is simply ridiculous and makes me feel that I am forcing myself into someone who's 'cheerful' and 'jaunty'. How very humiliating."

"Why do you still follow it then?" I asked, finally forced myself into speaking up.

He heaved in a deep sigh, "In order to repay a rather old but prominent debt."

"You never really did change, did you Moran?" I asked out of pity.

"Hm?" He hummed.

"A word is a word. What should be done should be done, even though you may take lives or create destruction in the process. You simply won't care. Still won't care," I gritted my teeth, disgusted with the man who was surely in front of me.

He groaned in disbelief, "Watson, if you had known, you would never have reached that sort of conclusion."

"Whatever your reason was, it won't erase the fact that you of all people killed…," I breathed in heavily and continued, "You killed the general."

He stayed silent so I knew I somehow won in this unreasonable battle.

"You left the army after Adamson was killed. Then five months after, you killed him. You made a mistake though, you shouldn't have asked me to help you. Because even if I know that it was the general's fault why Adamson died, I would never dare kill him for it. Because I know, he would never have wanted that," my voice was full of bitterness and venom that I knew well it affected him.

"Telling you was a mistake that I will never commit ever again—"

"And trusting you was a mistake that I will never do again," I cut him off and I winced when I felt a sudden pain in my stomach.

"Punching me now, are we? I thought you never liked close-range action, _sir._ " I tried my hardest to sound firm by emphasising the sign of 'respect' I used to call him.

I tried to supress my groan as I received yet another punch from the obviously fuming man.

"I guess things really change. Before you were leading us towards what we call the right path but now you are the one that you hate the most – Ugh!"

Another blow was sent to my face and I somehow managed to smirk.

"A traitor."

Punch.

"A criminal."

When he gave me another punch, the tie around my eyes slowly loosened.

"And most of all…" I trailed off as the tie went down. I blinked several times and slowly looked up to Moran whose eyes were completely red in anger.

I glared at him, showing all the emotions that I felt when he became the man I never thought he'd come to be, "A murderer!"

That was the final bit because he suddenly gave me an uppercut that sent me backwards, falling from my back on the chair.

I wasn't able to suppress my grunt this time. I saw him took of his jacket and vest then rolled up his sleeves.

"Untie him!" He ordered at the men behind him. They immediately complied and left after roughly pulling the chair from behind me.

Moran suddenly appeared in front of me and pulled me by the collar.

"Since this is where you get tortured, I might as well do my best into doing so!" He exclaimed and started punching me with all his might and added anger.

"I. Am. Not. A. Murderer! The. General. Forced. Adamson. Into. That. Bloody. Suicide. Mission!" These words were exclaimed by him with every blow he releases.

When he paused for breath, I managed to blurt out so little words that surely fuelled his rage, "You… let it… happen."

He suddenly pulled me up and rammed me against the wall, voice quivering in rage.

"It was his choice!" He yelled while looking at me straight in the eyes, completely showing the same emotion that he is conveying through words.

"You could've saved him…," I trailed off and blinked a few times as I saw his eyes getting unusually moist.

After giving me yet another punch, he effortlessly threw me towards a wall. I slumped against it and spit out the blood that stashed because of the blows he was giving me.

"Did you really think that I did not think of that?! Did you really believe that I didn't realize that I could save the only man who understood me?! I did! I bloody well did! But I was painfully late. I was bloody too late!" He then walked towards a drawer at the table just near him. It took me awhile to realize though that we were in some kind of a study.

He pulled out a gun and pointed it at me, "And you were supposed to be dead, Watson." He glared as I heard the gun clicked.

I looked up at him and tried standing up, trying to forget the pain that continues to amass every now and then.

As memories started flooding my mind, I heard a loud gunshot and pain made its way through my right leg.

I tried stopping my groan, but it was too bloody painful to do so.

I screamed in pain as I suddenly faced the floor yet again.

He kicked me so that I could turn and was now facing him.

"You were supposed to be dead, you lucky bastard!" And he suddenly stepped on my fresh bullet wound that brought immense pain that I never thought I'd feel once more.

"Gaaah!" I yelled as my eyes rolled in complete agony.

"You were supposed to die instead of him!" He added more pressure that I was sure that I would have passed out.

"Gaaah!"

Silent tears were now streaming down my face. I don't know why but I am hoping for something very familiar when I am in this kind of situation.

I think of the person who would try to save me and will always be successful in doing so.

"It should've been you!" Now, he was pointing his gun at my head.

I was speechless and could only close my eyes as I felt that he was driven mad with anger. I knew that he could end my life any moment now and there was only one person who occupied my now panicking yet tired mind.

 _Sherlock…_

I whispered in my head before another loud gunshot echoed around the room.

 **A/N: Technically, it's morning already. XD And here I am with yet another chapter.**

 **I am very sorry for the long wait and also sorry if this chapter is quite short. This one stands as a teaser actually for the next one. But still, as an apology, I shall give a hint of the next chapter:**

 **"Every villain has a backstory."**

 **Thank you yet again for the supports, especially to the undying reviews from ValkyrieDefender, xxxwallflowerxxx, and IceKiss. I'm also very thankful to the user who favorited and followed.**

 **For now.**

 **Cheerio!**


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Sebastian Moran's POV

"A traitor."

"A criminal."

"And most of all…"

"A murderer!"

"You… let it… happen."

"You could've saved him…"

Watson's words kept running around my once organized and unruffled mind. As I pointed the armed gun against his head, I thought of how badly I wanted to pull the trigger right at the moment.

My hand was terribly trembling with the want, the need!

*bang*

"Christ!" I heard the loud sigh of relief from the very man kneeling in front of me. The man who I've tried hard not to kill! I desperately pulled my hand to shoot at the furniture which was not at fault.

As a consequence of not being able to kill Watson, I clobbered his head with the gun – giving him enough pain to put him to a sudden bloody kip.

I turned to the two guards behind me, giving them a glare, "Tie him up and make sure that it's bloody tight and I don't bloody care if his wrist bleeds!"

"But sir—"

"Just do your task precisely as I have told you!" I pointed at the one who complained. Whatever his complain was I will most definitely not listen. Nothing gets inside my head right now but the words that Watson had stated, words that had truly affected me.

"You… let it… happen."

Flashes of what happened years ago started swarming my mind and all I could do was shut my eyes closed as I tried looking for the door.

"You could've saved him…"

I slammed the door close and heavily walked towards the master's bedroom of my cold walled mansion. I desperately needed to calm my mind and that particular room was the only place that could possibly calm this raging mind.

After getting inside, I slammed the door again and unjustly continued glaring at the room in front of me. As my eyes roamed around, it stopped at the mirror right beside my bed. I tried to even my breathing as I looked at my reflection but those words kept ringing that I couldn't find the strength to fight the scream that had tried to depart from my arid mouth.

"Gaaaah!" I yelled from the top of my lungs. I pulled off my tie and practically ran towards the mirror, slamming my tightly gripped knuckle.

Forget the posh pretences! All I wanted right at this moment was to feel any pain, anything that could divert my minds attention away from my bloody past. Yet the pain that was given to me by the shattered mirror was not enough. Blood was eminently dripping but it wasn't bloody enough!

"Damn you, Watson! Damn the general! Damn this!" I kicked, thrashed the entire room, completely showing my complete and utter anger.

"I never wanted him to be thrown out there! I never would've…! I never would ever…" I stopped as I stepped at a picture that crumbled with the uncontrolled pressure I gave it.

I pulled my foot back and kneeled immediately as I saw that it was the only picture that I held mostly dear.

I pulled the picture from its frame and brushed off the pieces of glass that was atop it.

It was the picture of both Adamson and I when we became Officer Cadet together. We were smiling like there was no tomorrow and our arms were on each other's shoulders.

I could still remember the vivid memory that will never be forgotten.

"Sebastian! We did it! We actually did it. I can't bloody believe it!" My best friend came running towards me, taking off his hat and practically tried to kill me with the tightest hug he could've given me.

I laughed and patted his back, "We did it, Bill! We completely, utterly and finally did it! We're Officer Cadets!"

"I bloody know that, you bloody bastard!" He laughed with me, "But we've still got a bloody long way to go though."

I nodded, "I 'bloody' know that too, you know."

He jokingly frowned and glared at me, "Are you mocking me again, old friend?"

"I just can't help it! From the very first time we met until now, you never really talked without 'bloody' in it. Too… British!" I complained.

"Too British?! Of course it's British! I'm British, you bloody man!" He raised his brow and looked at me like I'm some kind of a 'bloody' crazy man, "And besides, you're too British yourself!"

It was my turn to frown and raise my brow this time, "How so?"

"That!" He exclaimed and pointed at my mouth, "That way of speaking. The posh, elegant and classy way of speaking. It makes people think like you've never been trained by a bloody unruly and cursing officer!"

I chuckled, "I've told you, old friend. I simply don't like the way you talk. It simply isn't my—"

"Taste," he continued and sighed, "Couldn't you just bloody let loose once in a while? Like, right at this moment? Right at this bloody day?" I almost laughed at the pleading expression he had plastered on his face.

"Are you serious? Are you completely and bloody serious?" I amusingly implied.

He nodded like a trained pup, "Even if it's just for this day."

"Heh, you're turning completely mental Bill," I commented and jokingly punched his shoulder, "But alright…" As I tried to change my stiff posture and taking my hands out of my pockets, I continued, "Just for the bloody day."

He grinned madly and shouted in sheer happiness, "At last! Mr Stiff had finally listened to his old friend! Ha-ha!"

"Damn, Bill! I don't want to be seen with a bloody mental man!" I reacted and he precipitously looked at me like I just did something far more amazing than us being officially in the army.

"You finally cursed! Ha! You did it, my posh old friend," he laughed, shook my hand and patted my back like I just graduated from 'posh' school.

I laughed with him, savouring this moment that I would never dare forget.

Silent tears were starting to roll from my reddening eyes. I slowly stood up and sat down at the edge of my bed.

"Damn you, you stupid and bloody mental man…" I whispered as tears continued to fall and all I could do was slump down on my bed, completely surrendering to the exhaustion that this had given me.

"We need a team to infiltrate this site and we could easily win this war after," I suggested at the group of high-ranking officers in front of me.

Everyone was silent, waiting for further explanations.

I cleared my throat and continued, "I received a reliable and trusted intelligence that the terrorist had set up about only four major communication centers. And if we are able to take hold of just one, then our chances of winning will increase, enough to ensure our victory."

"We trust your source because it's yours, Major. But what we need to know is the possible consequences that the chosen team would face," stated the colonel sitting near the general.

"I have counted the number of possibilities and outcomes and there is only about 50-50 chance that the infiltration team will succeed this mission. I do not essentially suggest this operation, that is why I have another plan with me—"

I was cut off by the general who was looking incredibly grim. He looked up at me and said, "Desperate calls deserves desperate measures, Major. Your plan is what we need," he eyed me then turned to the other officers paying attention to everything that was happening, "Leave us."

Everyone obliged to the order and when the door was finally closed, he was looking at me straight in the eyes, "Prepare your men, Major. That infiltration team will be yours."

I immediately frowned at the order and reacted, "With all due respect sir, but I will never try to risk the lives of my men in this operation that could basically be called as a 'suicide mission'."

I tried as hard as I could not to sound hard, but it seemed like I was unsuccessful in doing so.

"Your father is not here to protect you, Moran. So don't you bloody dare use that tone on me!" He almost shouted and sat properly, projecting the feeling of pride and power.

I shut my eyes closed when I knew what this was all about. I sighed and stared back, "Sir, I have never relied on my father. Like you—"

"Don't you dare compare us!" He reacted quite loudly and all I could do was pulling off a grim face like his.

"I despise my father, sir. And I vowed myself never to be like him."

He gave me a crooked glare, "Your family have never been trustworthy, Moran."

"Trust me, sir. If I was allowed to choose between my cursed family and a meagre one, I'd rather live a penniless man."

He snickered, "Spare me your lies, Moran. Now, if you are too bloody of a coward to take this operation then I'll find someone more capable than you are."

I heaved in a very deep breath, thinking how I put a number of lives into an unpredictable risk.

"Leave." He ordered and I complied after a salute.

I went straight to my quarters and frowned after seeing such dazed and shaken Bill Adamson sitting on the edge of his bed with hands at the back of his head.

"What's wrong, old friend? Your men giving you a hard time again, I suppose," I laughed and sat at the edge of my bed in front of his.

He slowly shook his head and looked at me with wide-flabbergasted eyes.

I felt my brow meeting together as I asked one more time, "Then what is it? Did something happen?"

He slowly nodded but this time with a wide grin.

"Then what is it, you bloody man? You're absolutely looking completely mental!"

"Jane…" After citing the name of his wife, my eyes copied his expression just moments ago.

"Why? What is wrong? What happened to her?!" I exclaimed and started shaking his shoulders when I received no reply, "What happened to her, you bloody man?!"

It lasted for minutes until I had nothing else to do but clobber his bloody nape.

"Ouch!" He grunted and glared, "Couldn't you have just let me silently celebrate the birth of my daughter, you bloody bastard?!"

"Daughter?! Do you mean…" I trailed of and exclaimed, "She finally gave birth?!"

He jumped up and punched the air like he just got promoted, "You're bloody right, you bloody man! I have a daughter! Ha! I have a bloody healthy new born daughter!"

I celebrated with him as we exchanged a brotherly hugged.

"You're a father!" I shouted.

"I'm finally a bloody father!" He agreed.

"Congratulations, old friend…" I greeted as we both finally settled down.

"Thanks, but you do know that you're her bloody godfather, yeah?" He grinned.

I nodded, "Of course, dear man. Of course."

I smiled at the only man who understood me. I smiled at his absolutely undeniable happiness that is perfectly evident in his face.

I would never let anyone dare take that happiness away.

I was at the training ground that particular day, watching a new unit training. I was grimly focused when I saw Bill walking like his soul simply faded away from him.

I jogged my way to him and brought a hand on his shoulder, "Hey there, old friend. What seems to be wrong? You're completely conveying a very undesirable air."

He seemed to be somewhere else and it's making things even worse, "Speak up, you bloody man!"

He suddenly looked up, strangely looking like he just realized I was there, "Oh, hey mate…"

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I… uh… Got a mission!" He tried to change his expression from shaken to jaunty.

I frowned, "Why do I have this feeling that this mission isn't something to be celebrated?"

"You're really very attentive and observant, old friend. So attentive that it's hard keeping things from you," he commented and smiled sadly.

"You're not really allowed to keep things from me, yes?" I asked, tried to ease the tension away.

He shrugged, "Yeah, I bloody know that."

"So, what's wrong?"

We sat down at a nearby bench and he started talking, "I was ordered to ready my team for… uh…"

I frowned, something started connecting.

"For a bloody suicide mission."

After dropping the bomb, I slumped on the chair and ruffled my once ordered hair, silently cursing myself.

Damn! I vowed to myself not to hurt this brilliant and wonderful man beside me. But what did I bloody do? Send him to a bloody suicide mission that I so intelligently suggested to the higher-ups?

"You should've declined."

"I can't. The general himself ordered me personally, and I just can't say a bloody no, mate. He… He was the reason why I bloody got in the army for Christ's sake! I need to pay that bloody debt, and I'd be free from this tie with him," he looked completely baffled.

"Even so, you should've asked for something else!" I angrily exclaimed not at him, not the general, but at myself. I was the one who thought of this stupid operation anyway.

"I told you, I can't! I bloody well can't! Because if could, I will! Because I still have a family to go home to, a daughter to hold for the very first time. But bloody hell, I think I won't be able to do that at all!" He shouted and tears found their way in his reddening eyes.

I tried to even my breathing and tried my hardest to ease his pain. But I know I can't. Because unlike him, I have no home to return to after this godforsaken war.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" I started chanting at him but he simply shook his head.

"It's not your fault, you bloody man…" He trailed off and gave a small sad smile.

God, if only you knew! But why can't I say it?! Why can't I tell him that it was me who put his life at risk?! That it was my bloody idea?! That it would be my fault that he won't be able to even see or hold his daughter?! Why?! Why the bloody damn hell can't I?!

He ruffled his hair and wiped his tears, "But that's okay, you're here. And if I die, you can—"

"Don't you bloody dare say that! You're not going to die! I will persuade the general to find another unit, hell even mine! Just not you… You still have to—"

"I've decided, Sebastian. I'll take the mission, ready my men, complete it and come home. But if ever I can't…" he then looked at me with such pleading and hopeful eyes that it felt like my heart just broke into pieces, "Go to Jane; tell her how much I love her. Hold my daughter for me and tell her how much her father loves her. Short, take care of my family for me. I know you're the only one who could do so."

I shook my head as tears also started rolling down my cheeks, not accepting the current situation.

"That's why, old friend… Promise me that you'll take care of them, protect them. Do the things that I couldn't do with them. Give the things that I couldn't give them. Be the father that my daughter needs. Hell! Even the husband my wife needs," he tried joking the last part but I was not up for jokes this time.

I was silently crying, knowing that I couldn't do anything now. If he made his decision already, I can't do anything. I've learned that throughout our years of friendship. If only I could.

I tried talking to the general this time, saying that I will take the mission instead. But it seemed like he had fixed his decision but I knew he was enjoying the mere fact that sending my bestfriend to a suicide mission that I made myself was silently killing me.

I couldn't do anything. Hell, I tried to talk to my father but he was not obliging such actions.

I had nothing else to do. I had nowhere else to turn to.

I went to the training field to find my team waiting. I have asked them to come because of an announcement that I am about to give.

As I approached them, they immediately lined up and saluted.

"Sir!"

I nodded and returned the salute they gave me. I didn't start my announcement because I was waiting for Adamson to arrive. He too was invited for he has a great part in this particular notice.

I heard large and heavy footsteps coming towards me and I saw my men showing their sign of respect. I turned to my side and saw my precious old friend looking incredibly grim as he returned the sign.

"What's this all about, you bloody bastard?! I was training my men for Christ's sake!" He whispered quite loudly that I knew the group in front of us heard his irritated declaration.

I simply glanced at him and looked at the waiting bunch in front of us.

"You maybe are pondering why we are here when you are supposed to be training. What I wanted to tell you was that this brilliant officer right here was ordered to go on a suicide mission. And it was my entire fault," I felt his gaze fall upon me but I did nothing to return it, "It was my idea in the very first place. I suggested this operation to the higher-ups thinking that they won't approve it. But since they did, I was told to ready you lot for it is our team that will take the mission. But I declined because I fear that your lives will be put at risk. Yet days after, this particular man suddenly told me that he was ordered to do the mission. Guilt was perfectly running around my system yet all I could was watch as he slowly faded away to the sadness of what was about to come."

I paused and everyone had different expressions that I surely could identify one by one.

Bill was still looking at me and his gaze was that of someone who was mystified and baffled of what was happening.

I simply ignored each and every one of it and continued, "Now, you may be very confused as to why I am telling you this. My reason was to tell you that it was supposed to be our lives that are put at risk and not theirs. It was supposed to be us in that battlefield tomorrow and not them. It was supposed to be our bullets that would fire away towards the imprudent enemies not theirs. But unfortunately, they were chosen after I declined," I sighed, "I want us to fight with him. I want anyone of you who are brave enough to face their unpredictable fate and follow me in this mission."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, you bastard?" He whispered, quite inaudibly this time.

I ignored him, "If any of you are bloody brave enough, step forward."

For a moment, no one dare step forward. But minutes later, five of them stepped forward including Watson – a close friend of ours.

He looked at both of us and smiled, "I've got nothing to lose anyway."

I nodded.

I looked at the others and understood that a good number of them have families to return to. I ordered them to leave us and continue their training.

I observed the five brave soldiers in front of me and turned to Bill with a satisfied grin, but his expression was the complete opposite.

He dragged me away from the others and practically threw me against the nearby wall.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Sebastian?!"

"Isn't it fairly obvious?" I asked and straightened my uniform.

"Don't you bloody use that posh tone on me! That damned revelation was bloody alright but this..?!" He then pointed at the five soldiers attentively waiting for their Major.

"It was supposed to be me, Bill! I was supposed to take this bloody suicide mission instead of you!" I finally retorted at him while he confusingly ruffled his hair.

"And to take it back, you're going with me? That's against the order, you bloody bastard!" He stepped towards me with fiery eyes that I gave in return.

"Damn the order! That bloody general is enjoying this right now, do you know that?! He despises me because of my father and he'll do anything to make my life here a living hell! And he would succeed in doing so if you go to that mission without me by your bloody side! And trust me if I say this now, Bill, I will never let that happen again. I know what living in hell was like under the command of my father and you know well all the bloody things that I went through. If you die in this godforsaken mission, then I might as well die with you," after another revelation, I was panting and sweating at the same time, unable to predict what was about to happen.

For minutes, there was silence and then suddenly I went flying towards the floor when he punched me hard on my face.

I grunted and put a hand at the surely bruised part of my face and looked at him.

He was looking absolutely serious as he straightened his posture and looked back with eyes that contradicted his actions just moments ago.

Sighing, he started, "Don't ask why I punched you, you deserved it. And don't ask why I'm looking incredibly happy right now, it's embarrassing. Now, if you truly bloody wanted to come with me in this stupid mission, then do so! I don't bloody care. Just tell those five bloody idiots to come to the training ground in seventeen hundred hours."

After pulling me up, he walked away trying his best not to let me see his quirking lips.

I chuckled and went straight to the five men still attentively waiting yet looking amused at the same time. I think they might have seen everything.

"Major Adamson said to be here in seventeen hundred hours tonight. Be here and we'll talk about everything for tomorrow."

After the meeting, we decided to go to the base's mini pub. It was like a bloody goodbye party for us and we did all the things that are not allowed in the army. We fired our guns, shouted like mad soldiers and complained about the higher-ups bloody and cowardly arses.

We let loose but not too much because we knew what was going to happen tomorrow and we will need all our strength to just bloody get on with it.

"I'm gonna go get us a pint, yeah?" Adamson asked and I merely nodded in response.

He was gone for a moment and was back with two pint of beers on both his hands. He gave one to me and we both raised it for cheers.

"Friends till the bloody end!" We both exclaimed and gulped down every last bit of the drink.

We didn't drink much though, that pint was enough because we needed to be in control for tomorrow. It would be absolutely outrageous to wake up with a massive headache.

It was minutes after I drank the pint when my whole surroundings suddenly spun around and all I could manage to do was grunt before my head slumped down onto the table.

I felt arms pull me up and I also managed to glance at Adamson who had a determined expression. I wanted to ask what was going on but all I was able to do was groan and give in to the sleep that was pulling me effortlessly.

I woke up with a bloody headache that morning. I looked at my watch and sprinted up when I saw that I was an hour late of our meeting time.

Ignoring the massive headache, I looked for my bag that was stuffed with everything that I needed. I was moving too fast that I almost didn't see the small piece of paper on my desk addressed to me.

I put my bag down and took that little piece of paper. I slowly opened it with hints of what was inside.

I shut my eyes closed after realizing what it was and what happened last night had connection.

'Forgive me, old friend. Do take care of my family.'

\- Bill

Those simple words were enough for me to realize that he did all these to prevent me from coming with him, to make sure that someone will take care of his family. He knows his death was simply miles away from him and he was bloody brave and proud to face it.

Out of anger, I crumpled the paper into a tight white-knuckled grip and ran towards the base's plane runway.

I desperately looked for any signs that they were still there, but no… It's simply impossible. They're gone and I was left behind with all the guilt, with all the pain of reality that their death would be in my hands. His death would be in my hands.

Not caring if someone sees me, I ran at the center of the runway and shouted all the words that my mouth was capable of, "You bloody goddamned bastard! You stupid and bloody mental man! I'll absolutely never forgive you, you nasty coward! Come back here and let me kill those bloody bastards with you! Why can't you just…! Why… Damn you, you bloody mental man! You stupid, old friend of mine…"

I let everything out, not caring if tears were endlessly making their way towards my cheeks. Not caring if there are any officers who saw my undeniable humiliating break down.

I felt weak, I felt powerless.

"You bloody, bloody bastard…" And these last words were enough to knock me down yet again as the excruciating pain in my head thumped hard after my ruthless and endless shouting.

"We have until 16:00 hours until the next attack, which means Major Adamson and his team has to complete the mission in 14," one colonel announced as we all sat in silence at the long table, waiting for a report.

I was facing the general for he sat at the other end of the table as I did at the other.

Every part of me was aching to just simply kill him now, but I knew well that that will not be an intelligent move.

Everyone was silent, waiting patiently though I know none of them were actually thinking that this mission would be a success.

Each one had different expressions; snickering, worrying, not caring and simply enjoying. This was how I see everything right now, and oh how I'd love to kill every single one of them, starting with the cold-hearted general just meters away from me.

13:37.

I glared at the communication officers around us, cursing why they can't find any signal.

13:45

My eyes' gaze slowly fell upon the general who was nastily smirking in his own damned little world.

13:51

We all heard the clock ticking; everyone was growing impatient while I was readying myself. If 14:00 comes without any assurance that Adamson is alive, the general dies.

13:58

My hands went down to my gun slowly as the general and I exchanged hateful glares.

13:59

I heard my gun silently clicked, waiting to fire as I was waiting for mere seconds to pass.

14:00

'This time, you die you bloody bastard!' I silently cursed before pulling up my gun, but before doing so I was stopped by one communication officer.

"Sir! We've got a signal!"

And with that, everyone cheered, sighed in relief and celebrated.

I went straight to that man and immediately asked, "Is Major Adamson alive?"

He immediately went back to work and communicated with the team miles away from us.

"Y-yes sir, he's alive."

And with that, I shut my eyes closed and went out from that bloody conference room. I went to the only place that I felt comfortable with, that particular bench on the training ground.

"You bloody bastard…" I whispered to myself as a sigh of relief left my system.

As their plane landed on the runway, I never thought that I'd be the most excited man that day. I was eager to see my bloody bestfriend for Christ's sake!

I was grinning as they started getting out of the plane. Out of 37 men, 11 had lived and the others had died. That was the report 4 hours ago.

I was waiting for him to come down, yet the last man had gone out already but I still couldn't see him.

A pair of wounded soldiers were carrying a body though, and they were making their way towards me.

I gave them the deepest frown I was ever capable of and shook my head to Watson who was one of the pair.

He gave me sympathetic nod as they slowly put the body down.

I wouldn't dare open the bag but…

Damn this!

I kneeled and slowly pulled the zipper down, not wanting to see that my assumptions were right.

Yet, when it was opened, all I could do was stare.

I stared emotionlessly at the dead body of the man that I was anticipately waiting for to come back alive.

I closed the bag, I stood up and pulled Watson by his collar. I ignored his painful grunt as I glared at him with eyes that states vengeance.

"You said 11 had lived including your Major and the others had died! Then what's this?! What the bloody hell does this mean?!"

"H-he… He was alive sir, but he was shot when we were boarding the plane."

That explanation was not enough for me. How I wanted to kill every person in sight right now. How I wanted to shout every words that wants to get out of my mouth. And how I wanted to let the threatening tears to fall down.

But I wasn't able to do any of those. Instead, I just simply walked away, not looking back and went straight to my quarters to fall apart silently.

I woke up panting as fragments of the past gave me a nightmare that is essentially not new to me.

And as usual, I composed myself, even my breathing and looked around me.

I sighed as I saw another thrashed master's bedroom and grimaced at the fact that there really are times where I simply cannot be the posh and orderly gentleman that the outside world sees me.

I stood up, called a servant and left the room after changing to a three-piece suit. Today is the long awaited moment and the past will not be able to pull me back.

I looked at the crumpled piece of paper that Moran had personally made for me. Well, personally since it was him who calculated what would happen and what had to be done. He really was a crazy psychopath, thinking every possibility that would happen just so he would win though he was already dead.

When I returned to the study, Watson was gone. It seems that everything is going well as planned. I sat down on my chair, completely erasing the entire nightmare and looked coldly at the two men in front of me.

"Dr Watson has been transferred to the desired location sir and Sherlock Holmes is on the move," one of them reported.

I nodded and turned on the computer that was on my desk. I watched Dr Watson struggling to get out of the particular room that he was transferred to. I smirked at the thought that death was getting nearer and nearer as Sherlock Holmes arrives at St. Barts Hospital.

A/N: This is by far the longest chapter I have ever done. I don't know if I should be proud of that for I knew there would be a good quite number of errors because I won't be able to check this chapter for now. But because I owe you lot an update, here it is! :)

Thank you again for the views, reviews – especially to Imaginator38 for the absolutely fantastic review! –, follows and favorites. I am untiringly hoping for your continuous support by sharing/suggesting this story as well as continuing to share your opinions and ideas by your reviews.

Sorry for the delay and thank you for the wait!

Cheerio lad and lassies! :D


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Sherlock's POV

As I got out from the cab, I looked up at the all-too familiar building in front of me. I grimaced at the thought of John being in the same position as I was 3 years ago.

It simply cannot be. But…

 _"If this was what Moran was planning to happen, then leave him be. We've got other plans, Sherlock. Do keep that in mind."_

Mycroft's words echoed around my head and all I could do was to give off an irritated expression.

I walked inside the building, not paying even a bit of my attention to the oblivious people inside. But of course, I was not a fool to not notice that some of them are Moran's men. How predictable. Everything is obvious. Simply obvious.

I can't even stop myself from sighing.

Moran and Moriarty has a lot of differences though they worked together for years.

Moriarty uses his head for these things simply for his enjoyment. While Moran on the other hand uses his head and power in great lengths for his achievement.

One simply thinks of such things as mere 'fun' but the other thinks of it as his 'business'. Always competing, always wanting to win.

Yet the latter was their similarity.

I walked towards the elevator and caught a glimpse of the ever-innocent Molly.

As the door closed, she managed to look at me and give off a confused smile.

I honestly didn't like it when I am in the elevator with 'people'. Deducing them has always been an option but they are too 'ordinary' for any bit of my attention.

Floors went by and the number of people was getting smaller. I stared at the blinking light and eyed the last floor number.

The elevator dinged as it paused and opened. I walked out and started towards the stairs that leads to the rooftop.

I never did like de ja vu, it's terribly unpleasant and unintelligible. It stacks up another dreadful set of memories inside my mind.

Not one person was in the particular side of the seemingly unconscious building.

My steps echoed as I started walking up the stairs. I looked at every side of the path towards John's welfare as well as his jeopardy. Yet I am here to secure that welfare and Moran is there to render such jeopardy.

As I reached the last step, I heaved in a deep breath and turned the knob.

'Just wait for me, John…' Were the words that rang as the door creaked open, revealing an empty area.

I eyed the place and walked outside. I was still watchful as an eagle when someone talked from behind.

"Welcome back, Mr Holmes," and the ever-grey tone of Sebastian Moran greeted.

I clicked my heel and put my hands behind my back as I turned around to look at him.

"I'm afraid I don't like this particular place, Moran."

He raised one brow and nodded, "Well that is rather acceptable since you were supposed to die here and will eventually die 'truthfully' in a matter of about…" he trailed off and looked at his watch, "23 minutes."

I kept quiet and waited for anything that he was about to say. There was no point replying since he was obviously in the upper-hand.

"Let's not make this any longer, shall we Mr Holmes?" He grinned quite appallingly, "I have two things to give you. One will certainly give you an idea of what is happening and the other will give you the idea of what will happen. I am very sure that you know what I mean, yes, Mr Holmes?"

I glared at him, giving no sorts of response.

"Well, my first gift would be a video of your beloved Doctor John Watson," after revealing his first 'gift', my phone suddenly rang.

I clicked it open and saw that I received an anonymous message. I rolled my eyes at how easy things for this bastard were right at this moment. It is absolutely irritating.

I opened the message and played the video that showed a struggling John Watson – tied up on a chair, with hands tied behind his back and eyes covered with a cloth.

My hands started clasping-unclasping in anger when I saw that John's clothes were tattered and bruises were eminent around his body.

"Will you be kind enough to tell me as to what your deductions are after seeing that certain video, Mr Holmes?" The devil confronted.

Out of the will to tear him to pieces, I replied, "Hm, child's play. You have tied John on a chair, obviously. But the question would be where? Judging by the room, the lights, the walls, the atmosphere, obviously an abandoned room. 'Abandoned', so it should be somewhere that was obviously used before. There are 127 abandoned places around London but they are in certain categories. Shops, factories, hospitals, houses, apartments and schools… But it's perfectly clear that it's between a house and a –"

I was cut off when he raised his hand while shaking his head nonchalantly.

"That's enough for now, Mr Holmes. As much as how 'fascinated' I am to listen to your deductions, I do need to watch the ever running time. We don't want to be late now, do we?"

I glared.

"Right then, my final gift would be a phone call which will reach you right about…" And as if on a cue, my phone rang, "Now…" He trailed off and grinned rather excitedly. Hm, if you ask me, it is a bit out of character.

I took out my phone from my pocket and took a small glance at the caller ID which was obviously unregistered.

Exactly five seconds have passed until I answered the call with a lot of possibilities in mind.

"Hello?" I asked.

I waited for what felt like a minute when I heard the very wanton voice that had both surprised and angered me.

Angery at myself.

"S-sherlock?" Mary's shivering voice echoed from the other end of the line and all I did was stare at the floor below me.

"Sherlock?" She repeated.

I blinked my eyes and silently cursed myself for not being able to respond quickly, "Mary?"

"A-are you there?"

Her quivering tone sent shivers around my spine, "Yes…"

As I closed my eyes, I heard her let out a relieved sigh, "Good…"

"Where are you?"

"J-just somewhere…"

I turned my gaze towards Moran who had his index finger in front of his mouth; he's becoming the devil that I portrayed him to be by the second.

I know that Mary will never tell me where she was, but at the very least, I could listen at the background. I should know by then of her whereabouts.

"Alright… Mary, are you okay?"

A bit of silence was observed, it was infuriating until she replied, "Y-yes… I'm fine."

I silently let out the breath that I was holding back moments ago, but there was one thing more that I desperately needed to know, "And the baby?"

"She's fine…"

I somehow smiled at how she didn't even hesitate to answer. That would mean that she is really saying the simple truth.

I needed to keep her talking, so I tried to ask again.

"Mary—"

"Sherlock. I… Is it okay if I ask you a favour?" Her voice was even quivering than before that I forcefully closed my eyes to try not thinking of what she wanted to ask.

"No, Mary. Everything will be okay. Just wait for me. I—"

"Please, Sherlock?"

The eagerness in her voice was too persuasive, what am I to do?

"I know what you're going to say, Mary. And it will not happen. I promise you. Just trust me. I will save—"

"If you know, Sherlock, then you probably know as well that if worse comes to worst… you have to save the baby," she stated with a rather strong voice full of determination.

"Mary—"

"Please, Sherlock? I know that this will hurt John but I both love him and the baby. And this is the most rightful thing that I am capable of doing just so both of them that I held most dear will live. I know John will take care of the baby, he loves her. And I know that they will both be alright because you are there, Sherlock." I wanted to state my argument but, Mary being Mary, she knows as to what I was heading to.

"You're not a hero, Sherlock. I am perfectly aware that you can't save all three of us. In order for the two of them to live, I know that I should go. So just please, Sherlock… Just say yes."

I was out of words for the very first time. It was quite irritating how Mary did it but it still was utterly heart wrenching that it brought my mind to a stop.

Truly, love is a dangerous thing. It will bring pain upon anyone including John and I.

I am perfectly fine if I were to be in pain but John…

Mary has to live in order for John to not feel the pain I am feeling now.

"No, Mary. You will live and I will make sure of—"

The sound of my phone beeping was heard even before I could assure the poor lady that I will not fail her.

I glared at Moran who tutted and pointed his watch.

"I do apologize for the sudden interruption Mr Holmes, but you see, time is moving fast. We only have 10 minutes left to finally reveal the particular 'gift'."

"Stop wasting time with your absurd 'lines', Moran. You have a 'gift' yes? Then do tell," I sarcastically answered with a dull expression.

This man doesn't seem to be doing all these because of a certain 'debt', as far as I could tell. This is something far more than a mere 'paying a debt' order of events. It makes me want to do improbable things that will surely result to great lengths of danger for Mary, John and… the baby. That is why I have to bloody endure this unpleasant man.

"Alright then. This final 'gift' is the final game that Moriarty prepared for you, Mr Holmes. But, unfortunately, I had to change some things for a certain amount of reasons," and my assumptions of this not being a 'paying a debt' scenario was confirmed. Hm, how very discernible.

"The rules are simple Mr Holmes. You simply need to tell me where John Watson and Mary Watson are. But here is the 'catch', that is the word that common 'villains' say, yes?" He grinned, "But I am absolutely not one of those drab people. Now, shall we?"

I glared. He chuckled.

Oh, how I wanted to simply shove that imprudent smirk of his.

"John and Mary Watson are in different places. But, we will give you two choices. That would of course mean that you are only allowed to choose one. And another 'catch', each of their locations are planted with bombs. To simply state it Mr Holmes, save one and kill one…" He trailed off and acted like he just thought of something interesting, "Oh, do forgive me for my ignorance Mr Holmes. Mary Watson is pregnant, yes? That would mean you'd save two and kill one or save one and KILL TWO."

I held a white-knuckle grip as the devil smiled in victory.

"Let's not observe procrastination now, shall we? The options would be…, location A or location B. Simple as that, Mr Holmes. Oh and do forgive me if the game is a bit too 'simple', I heard you rather love difficult ones."

I continued masking the anger I am feeling right at this bloody moment with a monotonous expression. This was well planned. He knew that I would deduce the possible outcomes of today's turn of events. All of it. Yet he knows that I would disregard simple ones as to I thought that it was all Moriarty's plan.

 _"Focus, Sherlock. Don't lose your self-control. Restrain your physical self and clamber upon your mind. Search every possible option and all its possible outcomes. Think, Sherlock. That is what you do best, yes? Then think."_

Mycroft's voice echoed around my mind palace as I started thinking of my choice.

Physically, I would look like a stunned man or maybe a statue. But inside my mind palace, everything was in a definite pandemonium.

He only gave me the options but not the location themselves. Because if he did, he knows that I will know where the two are. And he can't risk that for he knows Mycroft could be anywhere.

**Mind Palace**

 _A?_

 _Or B?_

 _Is John in A? Or in B?_

 _But what if Mary is in A? Or in B?_

 _Sherlock…_

 _No, this is taking too long._

 _Sherlock…_

 _Think. The hints. John is in an abandoned area and surely Mary is too._

 _Sherlock!_

 _I stopped from thinking when I heard the voice that I have always wanted to hear this past few days. The voice that I will never seem to forget. The voice that sent my heart into thump abnormally._

 _"John?" I looked around my mind palace and saw a blinding light in front of me and the silhouette shadow of my doctor walked towards me._

 _"Sherlock…" He stopped right in front of me with that warm smile of his._

 _"John!" I exclaimed and did not hesitate to pull the smaller man into a tight hug._

 _He chuckled and tapped my back._

 _"How's it going?" He asked as he let go._

 _I immediately converted my gaze from his to somewhere else that I could try and avoid his._

 _"Oh? Is Sherlock Holmes trying to avoid me? You know well that that's not actually effective, yeah?"_

 _I sighed, "I don't know what to choose, John. It's absolutely irritating! That man is absolutely infuriating!"_

 _He smiled again and it was as if we were back at the time when we were just from the club that we visited to find if there is any lead with the murder from before._

 ** _"You have saved a lot of people, Sherlock. And you have saved mine a lot of times. But you won't really be everyone's hero if they don't trust their lives into your hands… That's why you are our hero Sherlock. Me, Mary and the baby trust our lives to you," he then gave me a warm, encouraging and hopeful smile._**

 _I closed my eyes, defeated._

 _"Whatever your choice is Sherlock, I know that you will be able to save all of us. I just know it! I trust you, don't I?"_

 _I finally had the courage to look at him but he was slowly fading away, "Wait, John! What if I wasn't able to save Mary and the baby? What if… what if they died? Will you hate me then?"_

 _He let out a lop-sided smile and shrugged, "I trust you, Sherlock…"_

 _He slowly faded away and all I could do was reaching out but it was all in vain. This 'feeling' just won't leave my chest that it was hard not to grip my chest because of the pain that it was giving me._

 _This was simply the reason why I had never wanted to 'feel' and 'love'._

 _But still… I had to say it… Just this once…_

 _"I… I love you, John."_

**Reality**

"So, do you have your choice now, Mr Holmes?" The voice of Moran suddenly echoed around the area. I glowered at the smirking devil in front of me.

"Thirty seconds, Mr Holmes."

I stayed silent, trying to finalize my choice.

"Twenty seconds, Mr Holmes."

We were staring at each other's eyes when I noticed a glint of light from behind him.

"Ten seconds, Mr Holmes."

I forcefully closed my eyes and gripped both my hands into a white-knuckle grip.

"Five."

I've told you, John. I am not a hero.

"Four."

But because of your trust…

"Three."

I'll try to be one. Even how ghastly it sounds.

"Two."

I will become your hero.

Before he could say the last second, I cut him off.

"A."

And suddenly, we heard a loud explosion that had him grinning from ear to ear.

John!

 **A/N: Good morning. First, I would to ask for your forgiveness for not being able to update in such a long time. I am truly and very deeply sorry. You see, school is being err… a b*tch! I've had tons of homeworks and projects for the past week and unfortunately, my Laptop's charger is unusable due to unknown circumstances. And during weekends, I can't seem to write because I bloody live alone and I have all the chores to myself. I am very and truly sorry. I just wanted you to know that I will be having my midterm's examination next month and I will probably be able to update at the end of the month of August. Please bear with me.**

 **Next, I thank everyone who still managed to read this work of mine even though the updates are a bit slow. Well, not a bit really but very slow. But still, thank you for all the supports that I am getting. I am hoping that maybe some of you will tell me your opinions upon the matter of my slow updates.**

 **Lastly, thank you for your continuing support upon this work of mine. Especially for the views, reviews, follows and favourites that this is getting. I really do appreciate and love all of it especially your reviews. :)**

 **And oh! I only have about 20 days left to edit some of the parts of the story that's why I am in need of a proof reader/Beta reader. If you happen to know one or you yourself is one, please don't hesitate to tell me. You see, I know I have quite a lot of errors and I would really love it if everything will be perfect for future readers. :)**

 **I think that this is getting a bit long, yes? XD**

 **And so, sorry, thank you and cheerio!**


	22. Chapter 21

**Warning: Angst.**

Chapter 21

Moran's POV

**bang**

As I heard a loud explosion, I knew well that I had won. I was grinning widely for my victory.

I could, as a man who won a battle, have shouted after the explosion but it was rather hard to do with the sudden pain that I felt at my chest.

I watched Sherlock Holmes glare and smirk as I slowly looked at my chest which is now covered with blood. I slowly lifted my hands to touch my burning chest throbbing in pain.

Suddenly, my legs felt weak that I abruptly went down on my knees as blood continued dripping out my excruciating chest.

 _I failed…?_

I lifted my head to find Sherlock Holmes slowly walking towards me. We stared for mere seconds when he finally did what I knew that he was begging for far too long. He punched me right to my face.

"As much as I want to punch you, kick and even kill you, Moran. I do still have some more important things to do," he smirked and looked me down, "This game of yours was never an inch that good with your 'late master'…," he trailed off and kicked my injured chest.

 _How…?_

I groaned of course. It was painful, very painful. But not painful enough to know how everything that I planned was ruined.

"H-how…?" I tried to ask through my gasps as he stepped on my injured area.

He was about to answer when someone behind him did the work for him.

"Truthfully speaking, I admire your boldness with your 'surveillance infiltration' act, Mr Moran. But I must have you know that between the both of us, I have and will always be the most powerful," Mycroft Holmes smiled rather triumphantly as he stopped near Sherlock.

The two of them didn't even look at each other but I knew that they were somehow communicating.

I coughed out blood when I couldn't suppress my pitiable chuckle anymore. This reminds me of my first encounter with James Moriarty.

Of course, Mycroft Holmes would help his little brother. And of course, Sherlock would never do rash things when it concerned the safety of his doctor.

 _**Flashback**_

 _"Sir, your father wishes to speak with you," called our butler._

 _I stood up from my study table and brushed imaginary dust off my shoulders and left towards the main study of the manor._

 _The butler opened the door as I went straight inside._

 _"You wished to see me, Father?" I asked immediately as I saw the man in his eminently old age sitting like the master of the house he is, reading 'important' papers._

 _He didn't even cared to lift his head and simply gestured for me to sit. So I did._

 _"Did you know why and how your mother died, my dear boy?" He started, still reading and signing the stack of papers on his desk._

 _"Car accident, sir…" I answered with the very word that I used after I knew what he was doing behind the eyes of the government._

 _I never expected what he did next, he laughed. He laughed as if my answer was the most ridiculous thing to say in the world._

 _"Oh sorry. Sorry for my rather surprising act, dear boy," he said through his laughs, "But, I must say, I completely forgot that that was the reason that I have told you a long time ago…"_

 _I frowned and he stopped._

 _"Yes… You were still a boy back then that I cannot afford to tell you, for I have thought you were still 'unprepared'. But that was such a grave mistake…," he frowned the same way that I did, "I never would have cared if you would be scarred with the truth because that would only make you stronger…"_

 _"What are you trying to tell me, sir?" I asked for it was already getting absolutely irritating with all his mind games._

 _He sighed, leaned on the table and removed his glasses, "What I am trying to tell you is that… I killed your mother."_

 _I knew my frown was replaced by something that had no emotion of any kind._

 _"You see, she meddled with my affairs and I can't possibly let her be. So I killed her when she was far from you, her beloved son," he leaned back on his seat and waited for my answer._

 _"Why?" I asked in a monotonous tone._

 _He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world and said, "Because she meddled with my affairs…"_

 _There was a pause of an ear-splitting silence until he continued in his tone that meant seriousness and danger, "And the very same thing will happen if you continue with what you are doing every time you leave the manor."_

 _I was clenching my fist the entire time my devil of a father was talking. I had suspected that this was what it was all about…. He knows that I've been trying to—_

 _"You have been trying to take over the business dear boy, ever since you left the useless military. And now that you know the dark secrets of that ghastly association, you thought that working for its complete opposite will be the better option," he smirked, "But sorry, my dear boy, as long as I am alive you are not allowed to get your filthy hands upon this business that I tried rather hard to build for years. Yes, I am acting the complete opposite of a father who should be proud of his son trying to take over the family business… But no. You were once a man of the 'government', a man of 'peace'! And I am not and will never trust you because of that. You've failed me once and failing me again will always be one of your options in the near future."_

 _I never did like talking to this man but I have to take over the business… I have to have power._

 _So I asked, "What is it that I should do then to earn your trust, 'father'?"_

 _He frowned for a moment but smirked after a minute._

 _"Oh? You want my trust…?"_

 _"Yes. I think that I have made it clear enough…"_

 _He chuckled as if everything that I said was somehow pathetic yet again. But still he answered back, "Right then…"_

 _He stopped for a moment to get something from his desk's drawer. He pulled out a folder and gave it to me which I of course accepted._

 _As I opened the folder, he started talking…_

 _"James Moriarty. The country's top most criminal. Every person that works in the underworld might be able to see him, but no one can ever touch him. With him in the underworld, we cannot rise to the top. We are always behind him…"_

 _He trailed off and let me finish what he was getting upon to, "And so, if he is gone, we will rise. That is why, my mission to earn your trust is to kill this person."_

 _"Precisely!" He agreed and was grinning like a mad man. He might actually be thinking that this is a bloody suicide mission but I know that he still believes upon my capabilities as a professional gun-man. If I die, then no loss is felt. But if Moriarty dies, then there will be gain. Gain in his advantage. He sees both as safe chances._

 _"But of course… You shall not make it known that you work for our 'business'. That would be quite disastrous if you were killed," he continued nonchalantly, without any emotion with the line where I get killed._

 _I smirked at him, "Don't worry, 'sir'. I won't die, but I assure you that someone will."_

 _I stood up abruptly and left the room without one last look at the devil behind._

 _I evened my breathing as I looked at the target in sight. I was only waiting for mere seconds until I pull the trigger._

 _Yes, James Moriarty is 6 kilometres away from his death. I smirked at how easy he was to find and how easy things are going for me to kill him._

 _Hm, my devil of a father was a coward to think that Moriarty was unreachable. Because right now, I am about to pull the trigger that will put Moriarty to his death bed._

 _3..._

 _I slowly put my forefinger near the trigger and watched at my victim cheerily talk to one of his 'business associates'._

 _2…_

 _I smirked. I shall have your blood business, father dear._

 _1…_

 _I was about to pull the trigger when he looked up and looked at me like he knew I was there. My eyes grew wide when he winked and I suddenly felt something painful in my shoulders._

 _"H-how..?" Was my last words when I fell into darkness._

 _I woke up for what felt like hours only to find that I was tied up to a chair in a room that seemed abandoned but is surely often times used for certain things such as interrogation or torture._

 _"Oh! You are finally awake!" I heard a loud-cheery voice yell from the door in front of me._

 _I heard clicks of shoes going towards me. I tried moving but winced at the pain that I felt in my left shoulder._

 _"Oh I'm so sorry about that, Sebastian… You see, with your ungentlemanly behaviour this last month, I had to punish you for giving me such a boring gaaaaame!" He exclaimed._

 _I glared at him and tried my best to calm down, "You knew?"_

 _"Of course! I knew it aaaaall along!" He cheerily replied with his high-pitched tone._

 _"Then why didn't you stop me sooner?" I asked again which made him smirk and laugh._

 _"Now where's the fun in that?!"_

 _It took a while until he stopped laughing._

 _"What will you do to me then?" I flashed yet another question._

 _His expression changed from being one that is amused to someone who is absolutely angry, "You know, as someone who has a rather undesirable experience in the military, you still act as if you are still part of it. How irritating…. How BORING!" He shouted and tried to even his breathing._

 _I continued glaring at him, standing my ground._

 _"But I know that you are only doing this to earn your 'father's trust…," he acted hurt, "Aww, how sad for little Sebby to be treated worthlessly by his father."_

 _I was very adamant into not replying to any of his statements and it also seems like he knows._

 _"But I have a little treat for you, litte Sebby!" He jumped up happily and walked around me, "I will offer you something that will surely catch your attention!"_

 _He stopped in front and looked down at me, "What if we turn things around? Instead of killing me, why don't you kill your father instead? You will take over your family 'business' after then…"_

 _Instead of a glared, my expression changed into a curious one, "Your offer is rather tempting, Moriarty. But my father is not an easy person to kill. He has access to all surveillance in London and he will know of any attempt to kill him. And even if I did kill him, everyone will know that the great Lord Moran was killed by his own son. I do not want to taint that prestigious name."_

 _"Yes. Yes. I know...," he rolled his eyes as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and suddenly pulled my collar which made me wince in pain, "That is why I am here, you see? I will be what you call a 'back-up', as you in the military call it."_

 _He smirked as I observed silence for quite some time._

 _"Well….?" He asked when he looked as if he reached his patience end._

 _I nodded, "Let's kill the bloody bastard."_

 _And so we did. My father died, I took over the business and Moriarty became the most powerful man in London's underworld._

 _***End of Flashback***_

While I was thinking of the certain things that had happened and how much of a failure I have been and how successful things were when Moriarty was still there, I heard a bit of a conversation between the two by which Sherlock Holmes left quite hurriedly leaving his older brother with a concerned look.

"You know, Mr Holmes… I never understand the two of you," I started off as my consciousness started drifting far away.

He raised an eyebrow and looked at me, knowing already what I was about to say. Hm, typical Holmes I must say.

"You are both much more productive… if you work together… but this 'childish' feud of yours is always a… hindrance to that… productiveness… I must say," I managed to state through constant coughs.

"Oh trust me, Mr Moran… You would never want to see us work together again," he flashed a quick smile which turned into a rather smug smirk, "Well, it is not like you are going to live to see that day…"

I wanted to furrow my brows but I know I was merely wasting how much energy I have left. I am a man of war and I know when I was defeated and I was taught acceptance. These were my principles when I was still part of the British Army and with Adamson.

I have thought most of the time that I had forgotten these principles for I never wanted defeat in my business. I despise failures and defeats that I will do anything in my outmost power to get things in place and everything that I ordered will be followed as plain as day.

But today…. I am guessing that I should just simply go back to where Adamson and I had first met, became friends – best of friends – brothers and especially his best man.

Of course, seeing the man you love marry that person that he _loves_ is rather painful and pathetic. But what am I to do? I am simply a _friend – best friend – brother_ and especially his _best man._

I had and always will be loving Adamson. Pity I wasn't able to tell him such feelings and words.

I was pulled away from my trance when I heard a click of a gun. I opened my eyes and saw Mycroft Holmes pointing a gun at me with a dangerous and serious look in his eyes.

"I don't only admire your boldness Moran, but I also do admire you as a man of your word. Because I, myself, _is_ a man of my word. But, you should have never included your own 'feelings' with your supposed plans. Sentiment is a dangerous disadvantage, as both I and my brother had always believed…," he trailed off yet again and held a tight grip on the gun, "I never really liked doing the 'leg-work' and getting my hands rather dirty. But seeing as you are a threat both to my brother and the government, I will have the outmost honor in taking away your life."

I stared at the gun then to the very man who was holding it and closed my eyes, utterly accepting my defeat.

"I am never really good at these things but, I allow you to say any of your desired last words."

I merely smiled with the posh tone that he had given me and said, "All hail the Queen of England."

Then all went black.

Sherlock's POV

As I got out from his sleek black car that was waiting outside the building minutes ago, I went straight to the abandoned warehouse where Mycroft tracked John.

I ran inside and desperately looked for my beloved doctor.

"John!" I shouted. I first did not hear anything and so I continued shouting my bloggers name until I heard a soft-painful moan.

I shouted yet again when I found him inside the very room that he was in Moran's video.

"John!" I screamed, petrified, as I dashed towards my doctor that lays gory on the floor.

"Sh-sherlock…" John's aggrieved voice echoed through my ears and it's killing me by the second. I placed his head on my lap and tried hard not to let the threatening tears to fall.

"J-john! Stay with me. Don't. Don't close your eyes!" I stuttered in dread.

"I'm a doctor Sherlock, don't be silly you bastard," He said but it was very eminent that his voice betrayed his body as sure pain amassed.

"W-what should I-?"

I was cut off from panicking as John held tight grip on my collar, "M-mary… B-baby…"

As I heard those names coming from John's mouth, I suddenly realized that I have to make sure that Mary and the baby is okay.

As if on a cue, I heard the sirens of an ambulance and the medic running towards me and John.

I responsibly gave them John even though it pains me to let him go.

When he was already on the stretcher, I didn't hesitate to kiss his forehead and say, "Wait for me in the hospital, John… I'll be there, I promise."

He smiled and slowly closed his eyes.

I ran towards Mycroft's car and ordered for the driver to go to Mary whom I know that is already at the hospital.

Possible things were running through my mind. I know that we have not calculated much about Mary's occurrence upon the situation that was at hand, but still we made counter measures.

I am still not aware of the state which she was in when she called but I had a hint that she was in pain. And it is very obvious that something unpleasant had happened to her.

As I arrived at the hospital, I was led by Mycroft's assistant to the labouring room immediately. There was no need to ask why we were going there, so I simply quickened my pace.

I saw Mycroft looking very worried – which was rather odd for him to show at times – so I called and ran up to him, "What's happening, Mycroft?"

He sighed and looked me straight in the eyes – completely showing his utter sentiment.

"Mary and the baby's lives are in danger, Sherlock," he immediately reported and looked very serious.

"Then put the best doctors in there, Mycroft! We can't afford to lose the two of them!" I shouted at him for it was the most obvious thing to do right now.

"They already are in there, Sherlock. It was the most definite thing that I would do. But they are not the problem, the state of Mary and the baby is...," he stopped when he saw one of the doctor's walked outside from the room, looking absolutely worried and exhausted at the same time.

"Is he your brother, sir?" He asked Mycroft who nodded. He looked at me with hurried eyes and said, "Sir, both the mother and baby's lives are in danger. Mary Watson has lost quite a lot of blood and it could result into excessive bleeding or haemorrhage. But still, we can save her if we…"

"If you what?!" I snapped, out of patience.

"If we choose to stop the bleeding first and delay the baby's arrival which could lead to the baby's death," he explained quickly after seeing my impatient expression.

"Well can't you do both at the same time?!" I shouted which made him wince a little.

"It would still kill the mother, sir. When a woman labours her baby, there would be an act of loss of blood. In Mrs Watson's state, she had already lost too much blood because of her grave shoulder injury. Haemorrhage is definite to take place even if we both stop the bleeding and take the baby out."

"What about-?" I was cut off from my further arguments when Mycroft himself answered my yet to be asked question.

"Caesarean operation is not an option in Mary's state Sherlock. Her body cannot take another series of injury or wound, and so it is not an option. Stop thinking about worthless possibilities, Sherlock! Think of the current situation! Calm down and think of what is the right choice to choose," he scolded with a determined expression that I only get when things are worth the seriousness.

"Choose?! I can't choose between the two of them for I have to save both of them!" I shouted back.

"Well you can't, Sherlock! This is reality. Stop thinking of yourself as someone who could always save the day as it ends, because that will never happen. I know how it pains you—"

"Of course, you don't!"

"Sherlock! I know how it pains you because I once faced the same situation way back when you almost died when you were still a child!" He finally let his posh and calm tone go and gripped both my shoulders to face him, "But you have to choose… Mary and the baby are the most important people in John's life and I know yours too. But only one has to live, Sherlock. You and I both know that. And it is up to you to choose who lives and who… dies."

"But why me?" I whispered in defeat.

"Because they trust you with their lives, Sherlock. John trusts you," he whispered back and stared at my eyes who were clearly showing confusion and exhaustion.

I knew that there were tears threatening to fall, so I looked away.

I tried to even my breathing yet again when I heard the doctor's worried voice.

"Sir, you have to choose now,"

I closed my eyes and concentrated. I went straight to my mind palace.

"Sir, we don't have enough time…!"

I went through John and I's memories. His smiles and laughter.

"Sir!"

I remembered how happy and nervous he was when he was at that certain restaurant while looking at Mary's engagement ring.

"Please, sir. We've only got minutes left!"

I snapped my eyes open while thinking of the happy faces that lit both John and Mary's faces when I told them that she was pregnant.

"Mary, baby, Mary, baby, Mary, baby, Mary, baby, Mary…"

I chanted until I heard Mary's voice echo through my mind. Her words that almost tear my supposed unfeeling heart apart…

 _"Save the baby, Sherlock…" She whispered, pleading with such determination and pain._

I also heard the voice of John who was determined to know his family's safety even through all the pains that he went through.

 _"M-mary… B-baby…" John's voice contradicted that of Mary's._

"Gaaaah!" I shouted in anger and confusion, my mind was in a whirlwind until it was put to a stop.

 _"The baby, Sherlock." Mary._

 _"B-baby…" John._

"Sir?!" I heard the agitated voice of the doctor, eager to hear my decision.

"Save… The baby…"

As I said those words, he immediately walked back inside the room leaving me stunned, hopeless and…. Heart-broken.

I felt my legs go weak as I fell to my knees. I heard Mycroft's worried voice and gentle arms trying to catch me.

But I didn't care, for there were only three words that were swarming my once calm and thinking mind.

Words that may be the last that I may be able to say to my beloved doctor, blogger and simply John.

 **Forgive me, John.**

 **A/N: And finally, here is the long awaited chapter! (I think that I should've posted this line before the chapter, but bleh. Result's the same, yes?)**

 **Good evening, everyone! Thank you so much for the rather long wait. It has been about one month, I presume. But still, thank you for the continuing support and the reviews that I received from IceKiss and ValkyrieDefender. You guys are absolutely the best! I also am encouraging you all to also leave a review and maybe some favourite or follow. *wink***

 **I do hope that you like this particular chapter because this is actually the start of my rather 'evil' plot. Haha. I will be updating about 2 or 3 weeks from now if school will be good for a bit and well… just be good. I am turning a bit weird this past few days – thinking about cute gay couples are so bloody distracting every once in a while, yeah? Do you also feel that at times?**

 **Right then, it is time to bid farewell for now. Again, I hope you liked this chapter and if you did be a love and don't forget to leave a review, favourite or follow.**

 **Thank you and cheerio!**


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

 **John's POV**

As I hear the beeps of a heart monitor, I knew that I was in a hospital.

I know that Sherlock had found me and I know that I am safe.

I could still remember the way he was in panic in God knows how many bloody hours ago.

I tried to open my eyes but it was a bit hard owing to the brightness of the room. But I opened them slowly either way.

When I finally opened my eyes, I desperately looked for someone. A person in particular. The only person that has been running through my mind ever since I was bloody kidnapped.

"Mary…?" I whispered through my hoarse voice which was painful enough because I had been shouting every single time Moran –

I stopped myself from thinking about all the bloody terrible things that had happened and focused into finding Mary. She should be here somewhere, so I looked around.

I tried to look at my side but it was getting quite hard because the pain was still not subsiding even though I know that I am taking a high amount of morphine.

When I moved, the familiar built of Sherlock Holmes suddenly stood up from the seat near my bed and called in a worried voice – which I have been getting quite a lot recently, "John…"

"Yeah… I'm up Sherlock," I assured him and smiled.

I was hesitant on what to say because he was absolutely looking terribly worried and abnormally anxious at the same time.

He was observing my every move – though I think I can't move quite well right at the moment – which could literally be seen because his grey eyes were wandering around in a quick manner.

I almost chuckled but there was one thing I needed to know, "I'm fine, Sherlock. But…"

Suddenly, his wandering eyes met mine, "But what?"

"W-where's Mary?"

I looked up at him with hopeful gaze. I need to know where my wife is because I still need to apologize for leaving and I don't even bloody know how long I've been gone, so it is a bit tad worrying.

Well, not a bit but really worrying. In addition to that, it's her labouring week and maybe I can still be there when she delivers the baby.

I secretly smiled at the thought, completely forgetting all the things that I had been through for God knows how many days.

I stopped wandering around my mind when Sherlock wasn't able to answer my question immediately when he was supposed to. It's very unlike his witty nature.

"Sherlock?"

He blinked his eyes like he's just been from his mind palace and looked back at me again.

He raised his brow and asked, "Yes, John?"

"I asked you where Mary is… Why didn't you answer?" I suspiciously asked again with my brows knitted together.

"Oh… Mary..," he paused for a while, looked up at the window then to my side, "She's…"

I know there's something wrong and I needed to know. I know it involves my wife for God's sake!

"She's what, Sherlock?!" I whispered in annoyance and impatience. It's bloody annoying that Sherlock isn't answering one simple question and its bloody ticking me off! I don't even care if my body starts getting even more painful – because I have been trying to get up – just so I could get my answer quickly.

"She's… Um…" Sherlock stuttered and started walking around the room, the same way he did when he was trying to explain something every single time we were on a case. But now it was different, because he's completely showing panic and I don't like it one bit.

"She's what?!" I finally hissed which made him stop and finally look me straight in the eyes.

"Sh-she's… U-um… She's—," he was cut off when a nurse suddenly opened the door and came inside.

"Good afternoon, Dr Watson… How are you feeling?" She smiled.

I wanted to glare at her for cutting Sherlock off but I know I shouldn't. So I simply answered, "Fine… Just feeling a bit painful."

She nodded, did her job and turned to me, "I will increase your morphine intake, Dr Watson… Will that be okay?"

I nodded, "Yes please…"

After increasing my dosage, she left the room after saying that she will go inform the doctor assigned to me. As a doctor, I know the necessary drill, so I just agreed.

Sherlock was now looking over the city like a hunting eagle ready to hunt his prey, but there was something more. Something off.

"Sherlock, you were supposed to tell me where Mary is. And now that the nurse is gone, complete the thing that you were about to say," I said with an absolute stern voice.

I saw him sigh but he never dared turn around and look at me.

He was silent for a moment again until he gave me the words that I didn't want to hear that time. The words that I didn't want to hear after all the pain that I've been through.

"She's gone, John."

I was unable to reply because of the huge lump that formed inside my throat after Sherlock dropped the bomb. I didn't want to believe him because he could be joking for God's sake! But this is not the time to joke around, is it? Surely Sherlock would never… But I wanted him to just take it back and say that she's okay and that he was just joking.

So with faint glint of hope I asked in my most painful yet pleading voice, "S-sorry?"

The pain and sadness that glistened in his eyes as well as the way he gulped in worry made fresh tears form in my eyes, "She's gone, John… Mary, she's gone."

The tears that I was trying to hold back slowly fell one by one and all I could do was turn my eyes away from Sherlock to the suddenly interesting telly in front of me – by which I could see my pained and sorrowful reflection.

"T-tell me you're… Tell me you're just joking, Sherlock…" I insisted.

But I felt him shake his head and looked down, "I can't, John… I'm sorry."

And with that statement, I let all my anger seethe out. I have to let Sherlock know every single emotion that I am feeling right now, at this very moment!

"I… I-i… I t-trusted you… I trusted you with my family's life, Sherlock! H-how…? How could you just say that? How could y-you… How dare you say that M-mary's… that my w-wife is gone? Hm?! How?!" I tried to shout, ignoring all the physical pain because right now… It feels like my heart is being torn apart, breaking into pieces.

Sherlock stood up straight with hands behind his back and tried to confront my painful and angry gaze, "I think that I have made it rather clear, John. I am not your hero and in fact not anyone's hero. I know that you trusted your family's life to me, so I made the right choice."

The way he calmly stated it made my anger boil even more, "Right choice? What do you mean 'the right choice'?!"

He took a deep breath and gave me the expression that he always had when trying to explain something that was obvious to him but not to everybody, not even me.

With his signature tedious expression he started, "Well, both of you wanted the baby to be safe. You wanted Mary and the baby yes, but Mary wanted the baby to be born… To be safe. Her last words, in fact 'word', was 'baby' – 'save the baby' she said-"

"Last words?!" I cut him off but he simply waved it away by continuing.

"Yes, 'last words'. Now—"

"So my wife gave her last words to you?! How…?" I was confused. Confused at everything.

"Yes, through a call. Now, due to uncontrolled circumstances I was brought into an unlikely situation, I had to choose between Mary and the baby. Knowing that both of you wanted the baby to be safe, it was easy enough to deduce that I should choose the baby. It was the most logical thing to do," he stopped and waited for my response.

 _Enough. I'm tired._

 **Third Person's POV**

Silence. There was only silence after Sherlock explained. John was now laying back on the bed's headboard and simply staring at the telly in front of his bed.

Silence. It had been minutes, John was still wordless.

Sherlock was looking unruffled and composed, yet if Mycroft had to describe his stature, Sherlock Holmes was nervous – one feeling that no one had thought he'd ever feel.

It was perfectly eminent that he could not take the silence any longer, so he called, "John…"

He was silenced by the blonde man by waving his hand, signalling Sherlock to stop.

"Deduce… Right choice… The most logical thing to do… Heh, I should've known. For a moment there Sherlock, I thought you actually 'cared'… That you actually 'felt' something for once. Deduction. Choice. Logic," he heaved in a deep breath and sighed – looking as if he's letting everything leave his tired system, "You know what? Hm? I have had enough of this…"

"John…" Sherlock persuaded but the tired man simply shook his head.

"No, Sherlock… I have had enough of your deductions, your facts, your science, your logics, your explanations, your… Everything! Short," he breathe in yet again but now looking at Sherlock with eyes full of pain with absolute tiredness in them, "I've had enough of you, Sherlock Holmes."

The taller man's eyes grew wide as he stared back at the man in front of him, the man who – without knowing – just broke his heart simply by those words.

But Sherlock, being the pretender he is, looked straight back at John with the dullest expression possible and asked, "Is that all?"

And John, being the strong willed man he is, nodded without hesitation.

"Anything else, John?" Sherlock asked as both of them looked away from each other – his eyes wandering about and John's looking down.

"You have a healthy baby girl, by the way…" Tried the taller man, tried to break the fortifying ice between them.

"…"

"Well of course you already know that, I just—"

"Go, Sherlock," John finally responded making the said man to stop in his tracks.

It was Sherlock's time to stay quite after a painful plea from his beloved whom he had always wanted to be his other half.

"Go!"

"Well then, goodbye John," the broken consulting detective finally bade farewell to the man that he'd never wanted and thought to be separated from.

He walked rather slowly but calmly towards the door while the tired doctor continued staring at the telly in front of him.

Slowly, the now-crumbling Sherlock Holmes reached out for the knob, but before opening the door, he remembered one final thing. The one final thing that he'd never thought he'd say in such a situation, in such a state.

But he have to say it. Before everything ends between him and his beloved doctor, he had to say it.

"Amelia…" The standing man whispered, but enough to let the other man hear.

It was as if the latter had understand for he merely nodded without glancing even to the former.

The consulting detective's hand seemed to have gripped the knob even harder as he slowly opened the door.

Slowly, hopes had vanished. Dreams had crumbled.

And hearts had shattered.

If only both of them knew what the other feels. If only both knew that they both feel the same, then… Maybe…

"Sherlock…" Time seemed to have stopped for Sherlock Holmes as he heard the call of his doctor.

Could it be? Could it be that John Watson changed his mind? Could it possibly…?

The grey-eyed man slowly turned around to meet the painful blue eyes of his beloved.

The detective wanted to see hope from those ocean like eyes, but there was nothing left but pain and determination.

Pain was understandable but… Determination?

"Yes, John?"

John Watson closed his eyes, and with a mere blink erased all the expression that was formerly upon his eyes.

Sherlock's eyes showed confusion as John's showed no clear signs of emotions.

"One final favour…"

"What?"

"Stay away from me and my daughter. You can do that, can't you? I mean, you're Sherlock Holmes. Staying away from people is not a problem, yeah?"

How it hurt the shocked consulting detective, no one knew. Because after that one final question, Sherlock left the room and crumbled entirely to his waiting and worried brother.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Mycroft's POV

I was waiting outside the room of Dr Watson. It has been 48 hours since he was confined in bed and it has also been 48 hours of Sherlock not coming out of the same room.

If this was Sherlock being stubborn, then I don't really feel concerned. But this is Sherlock not being himself, and yes – sadly – as his brother, I am quite worried.

I have received multiple reports from Anthea that everything was very well taken care of. Or let us say, everything was all covered with little white lies.

I sighed as I stared at the door where my brother and his blogger were. I was sitting on the bench, with my hand gripping my brolly as if someone's life depended on it.

But whose life was it? Sherlock? John? Or mine?

I sighed yet again from the formulated questions and slowly closed my eyes. It has been 48 hours as well. Forty-eight hours of waiting for Sherlock to get outside that bloody room.

I leaned my head back towards the wall and felt its concrete and cold surface. If only Sherlock and I stayed like this, concrete and cold, then none of this ghastly situations would never have occurred.

I was taken away from my trance when I smelled a particular smell of coffee and the soft crackle of the bench that I was sitting – as if someone had decided to finally take advantage of the space.

I slowly opened my eyes only to see Detective Inspector Lestrade staring at the same door, drinking coffee with his hand and holding out one for me with the other.

I heaved out a rather deep breath when I knew who the intruder was as I gradually accepted the offered beverage and put my brolly to my side.

"So, I guess sleep doesn't occur to you, huh?" He asked without taking his eyes off of the door.

"It's not because it doesn't occur to me, Inspector. It's just that it is not of my interest," I answered with pure blatancy.

I heard him snicker which made me turn to his relax yet undoubtedly tired stature.

He surely felt my sudden action for he turned to me as well with that warm smile of his that never ceased to exist ever since the last 48 hours had started.

"That is so like Sherlock," he commented and chuckled.

As I felt an unlikely feeling inside my chest, I looked away and stared at the cup of coffee that he had given me. I was holding it with both hands, feeling the warmth that seemed to have become quite familiar in the last 48 hours.

"I thought that you had reports to do, Detective Inspector. Why have you been coming here every 5 hours in the last 48 hours?" I finally got the chance to ask. Yes, he had been coming here ever since the last 48 hours had started. Giving me coffee, sitting next to me, and giving away his company.

"So you've been counting, huh? But yeah, there's still a mountain of paper work left back in the office but… I just can't leave you here waiting alone, can I?" He asked back while pulling off yet another warm smile.

No matter how much I deduce this person sitting next me, I can never understand him. I do have a feeling that he is also waiting for the two of his precious friends to come out of that bloody room, but there is also a feeling that he seeks for something else. He seeks the company of someone who feels the same.

While it rather feels strange it also feels quite comfortable and reassuring that I am not alone.

"That cuppa won't stay hot forever, you know," he called as he drank his own.

I stared at the beverage that I never thought to like just by drinking it in the last 48 hours. The black color, the strange smell, and the strong flavour. These were never alluring and attractive to me for I am rather obsessed with tea.

Yet, ever since the tired yet hoping Detective Inspector started giving me this unlikely beverage for the last 48 hours, little by little, I came to like this strange yet comfortable 'cuppa'.

Lestrade's POV

I was about to ask Mycroft about his suggestions for some of my report when we heard the door in front of us slowly open.

Mycroft immediately put his cuppa aside and stood up, mentally forgetting his ever-loyal brolly.

I stood up too but was stunned into place when we heard the faint voice of John inside.

"Stay away from me and my daughter. You can do that, can't you? I mean, you're Sherlock Holmes. Staying away from people is not a problem, yeah?"

It was as if lightning had passed when Sherlock suddenly walked outside and closed the door with a shocked expression.

"Sherlock…" Mycroft called as he slowly walked towards his brother.

Slowly, Sherlock looked up to his worried brother.

It was the first time that I saw Sherlock's eyes give off such a painful expression. It was as if he wasn't the same Sherlock Holmes that I knew. The witty and strong-willed nature of Sherlock Holmes.

"M-mycroft… I… I-i… uh..." As he stuttered, his eyes were blinking drastically, as if trying to stop the tears that were forming in his eyes.

Slowly but surely, Mycroft reached out and wrapped his arms around his brother.

"Oh little brother…" I heard Mycroft whisper while he closed his eyes. It was as if they were feeling the same thing.

Sherlock was still like a child when Mycroft continued, "Shall we go home now, Sherlock?"

As Sherlock nodded, Mycroft turned to me and gave a lop-sided smile. He then looked at the closed door, completely giving off the impression of what I should do.

I nodded as assurance that I will do what I can. They slowly walked away with Mycroft's arm tightly wrapped around his brother's shoulder.

I went inside John's room when I heard no answer when I tried to knock.

I slowly closed the door and went straight to John who seemed to be deep in thought while staring at the telly.

"Hey, mate…" I tried to call him but it seems like he's not yet with me.

I sighed and stood right in front of the telly that he was so interested in staring at.

"John," I called again and finally, he blinked and looked up at me, like he was just from some kind of space.

"Greg," he answered and gave me a lop-sided smile too which I gradually returned.

I walked around his bed and sat on the chair right beside it, "So, you feeling a'right?"

He nodded and turned to me, like he was about to sleep or something.

"You tired?"

"Yeah…"

I sighed and smiled at him, "Well, I really want to chat though but I know you need to rest," I stood up and slowly walked towards the door.

But before getting out, there was something that's been bugging me to just tell it to him.

So, out of worry, I turned back at him, "You know it's not his fault… Sherlock, I mean. He was just forced to choose because of the situation. Don't push it too hard on him, John. I mean, I know you've had it hard too but, both of you are just victims of the situation."

I got no response from him so I just heaved out a sigh and turned towards the door, but before getting out, I heard him answer.

"I know, Greg. It's just that I'm tired of all of it. Right now, I just want peace, that's all."

I wanted to comfort the man but I know that he just wants to be by himself for now, to clear his head up a bit.

So I went out and softly closed the door.

I was about to walk away when I saw a familiar brolly, neatly put aside on the bench.

I scratched my head and smiled at the thought that even the most important thing to Mycroft can be forgotten when they are up against his precious little brother.

"Oh well, I guess you're stuck with me, yeah?" I mumbled and took the brolly away with me.


	25. Chapter 24

_Warning: Sherlock is a bit OOC._

 **Chapter 24**

Mycroft's POV

As we reached our humble home, Sherlock was still staring outside through the window. It has been like that for the couple of hours that we had been travelling.

"Sherlock…" I called out to him as I softly gripped his hand that was holding out mine ever since we entered the car. This gesture of him takes me back to the time when he was a little child who's troubled or sad enough to need my attention.

I never had thought that there would come a day that he will need me in this kind of way.

"Let's get inside, shall we?" I asked and was granted by a nod from my helpless little brother.

I went out first as he followed me, not letting go of my hand, he went outside the same door as mine.

Mummy immediately opened the door when she heard the front gate open. I did not tell her that Sherlock and I were coming, but by the look that she had given us as we entered, it was as if she knew of what had happened.

Perhaps that is what they call 'a mother's intuition'.

Immediately, after getting inside, Sherlock let go of my hand and went straight to his bedroom. Truly, it was as if I was taken back to the distant past.

 _Flashback_

 _It was one normal and dull evening._

 _"Mycroft darling, where is your brother?" Mummy asked while preparing dinner for the night._

 _I was reading my fifth book for the day when my mother asked such a peeving question._

 _"As you can see, Mummy, his presence is not needed at the moment. And I certainly would not need it at any moment," I blatantly answered which made my mother face me with a dissatisfied expression._

 _"Myc, go find your brother," she commanded._

 _"How many times must I tell you, Mummy? It's Mycroft. And it is not as if Sherlock isn't aware of his surroundings and his way back to this humble house of ours," I sighed and continued reading._

 _"Well, 'Mycroft', I gave you your name and so I have the right to change the way I call you with it. And it's not as if your brother doesn't know the way back home, he just doesn't know when to go home," she countered which made me snap my book close and stand._

 _"Alright-alright. As you wish, dearest 'mother'," I gave her a lop-sided smile and turned towards the door after taking my newly bought brolly with me. I must say, this thing is quite helpful – well, for a gentleman, I do guess this is quite well needed._

 _I smirked at the thought and went out of the room._

 _Finding Sherlock is never easy. Well, for ordinary people, it is rather hard. But as his brother and his self-proclaimed 'enemy', finding him is never hard._

 _I began to follow his every move ever since he started going to school._

 _Some would call it 'worrying' but for me, it is what you call 'assurance'._

 _Sherlock may be one hard-headed brat, but he never tries to do anything that can upset Mummy. Well, anything that Mummy has the privilege to see, of course._

 _Yes, it is what you call an assurance for future purposes._

 _Sherlock is currently at the grounds of one of our mysterious neighbours, Mr. Charles Brown. He is one petulant and strange man. Mysterious they say, but according to my research and information properly attained, Mr. Brown is a failure._

 _He was, before, a successful business man of guns and ammunitions yet its glory only lasted for three years. It seemed that he had forgotten how to do business in a legal way and had started making transactions in the underworld. He was caught but was made to bail. His case is still upon hearing, I presume._

 _Sherlock may have known this kind of information and had started to gain interest with the word 'case'. It's now one of his hobbies for the past few months; solving cases, that is._

 _I can never understand his interest at times. Hm, when have I ever?_

 _I was in deep thought about Sherlock when I was taken back into reality as I heard a loud gun shot._

 _"Sherlock!" Was the first name that came out of my mouth as I ran towards the nearing grounds of Charles Brown._

 _When I arrived, there, I saw Sherlock; wide-eyed and helpless as he stared at his dog Redbeard lying lifeless in front of him._

 _About 4 meters away from them was Mr. Brown, holding the gun that had surely killed my brother's beloved dog._

 _"Sherlock!" I called and slowly approached my helpless little brother._

 _"My-mycroft… R-redbeard is…" he stuttered as if he just did something that truly upset Mummy._

 _Before I was able to approach my brother though, another gunshot was heard and it was enough to avert my attention from Sherlock to the uncertain and trembling man in front of me._

 _"Who the bloody hell are you?!" He shouted with trembling voice and expression._

 _"Good evening, Mr. Brown. I am Mycroft Holmes, the older brother of that boy and I must say that that is a rather interesting firearm you have in your possession. Now that I have the privilege to see such a thing in person, I want to know more about that particular weapon but I do not have the time. And so, while it is true that I am still a young lad, I must have you know that I have been studying our beloved monarchy and its laws. I am also well-informed of your current status and in addition, it is also perfectly eminent that our current situation can assist the judgment of your case. And so, I shall ask of you to surrender to the proper authorities, Mr. Brown. You do not have any choice left, do you? The moment that you shot my brother's dog, I am entirely sure that the local authorities were alarmed. They shall be here in approximately three minutes. Even if you try to kill the both of us, try to escape or use us as hostages, I must tell you that your effort shall become futile," I slowly walked towards the quivering man and continued, "Now, if I were you Mr. Brown, I will put my gun down and surrender. We do not want your daughter to be more disappointed than she is now, do we?"_

 _"What the bloody hell are you talking about, you bloody brat?! One more bloody word and I swear I will shoot you!" He warned with such an unconfident and stuttering tone._

 _"Did I not tell you, Mr. Brown? Everything that you will attempt to do shall be simply futile!" I exclaimed and immediately hit his hand with my rather strong brolly, resulting for him to drop his gun. I then hit his right neck then to his head, completely taking him out of his consciousness._

 _"How truly disappointing," I whispered as I glared at his unconscious stature._

 _"M-my-mycroft…" I heard the faint call of my little brother which made me snap out of my angered trance and ran to his helpless side._

 _"Sherlock, are you alright?" I immediately asked as I tried to check every nook and cranny of his small and frail body._

 _"R-redbeard is… R-redbeard… B-because…" He continued stuttering as he stared at his lifeless dog in front of him._

 _I turned to look at Redbeard whose blood spluttered near his wound._

 _I couldn't help but sigh at the pitiable state of my brother's precious dog, so I asked, "What happened, Sherlock?"_

 _I stared at his eyes so he will not have any choice but to avert his gaze to mine._

 _"I-i… Mr. Brown w-was… And R-redbeard s-suddenly…" He tried but continued to stutter like there was no tomorrow._

 _I held his hand with a tight grip and wrapped my arm around him, "Shall we go home now, Sherlock?"_

 _As I felt him nod, we slowly stood up and started to walk away._

 _The local police had arrived, so I was left with no choice but to explain what had obviously happened. It lasted for minutes yet Sherlock never let go of my hand until it ended._

 _Until we arrived home, Sherlock never let go of my hand. It was only until then that we reached his room that his hand finally left mine._

 _"What happened, dear?" Mummy worriedly asked as Sherlock closed his eyes, slowly falling asleep._

 _"Redbeard's gone, Mummy… And Sherlock was there to see it," I formed my hands into a white-knuckled grip._

 _It was only then that I realized that I left my brolly at the crime scene._

 _Strange, for I remember using it to put Charles Brown to an involuntary sleep. Then after, I heard Sherlock's voice…_

 _Oh, I let go of my newly-bought brolly the instant I knew that my brother needed me._

 _I smiled rather pitiably to myself._

 _How much of a fool can you be, Mycroft? Putting him in surveillance as assurance for the future? Or is it simply worrying about your precious and beloved little brother?_

 _Foolish. You even forgot your newly-found obsession just so you can run to your brother's aid quickly._

 _Simply foolish._

 _End of flashback._

After Sherlock had slept that evening, he told me what had happened. How he sneaked inside the grounds of Mr Brown and how Redbeard saved him from being shot by jumping right in front of him.

His sadness lasted for weeks and it took me the same to cheer my little brother up. I gave him a little case that had the local authorities pinned for months. He finally went out of his room and was up and about of that particular little case.

The sadness that he went through was the particular reason why I never wanted him to be involved. Involved deeply with anything, with any people.

But as I see it, my brother never really does heed my warning. Yet, it is my duty to make him. And so, I failed as his brother.

I closed my eyes tight, sighed and whispered the same words that I said way back then, "How truly disappointing…"


End file.
